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from  Tlip  Basso-ReHevo  in  the  RotiiucL-i 
of  i]ip  Capitol  at  WasMngtoa , 


THE 


ADVENTURES 

OF 

DANIEL    BOONE, 

THE 

KENTUCKY   RIFLEMAN. 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR   OF   "UNCLE   PHILIp's  CONVERSATIONS." 


'Too  much  crowded  —  too  much  crowded  — I  want  more  elbow* 
room." — Boone  on  Ms  way  to  Missouri. 


NEW-YORK : 

D.    APPLETON    &   COMPANY, 

346  &  348  BROADWAY. 

M.DCCC.LIV. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1843, 
By  D.  APPLETON  &  CO., 

1%  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States, 
for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Page. 
Daniel  Boone  is  born  in  Bucks  county,  Pennsylvania — 
His  father  removes  to  the  Schuylkill — Boone's  early 
passion  for  hunting — Kills  a  panther — Wanderings 
in  the  woods — Is  sent  to  school — The  school  is  bro- 
ken up — Boone  returns  to  his  sports — His  father  re- 
moves to  the  Yadkin  river  in  North  Carolina — ^While 
the  farm  is  improving  Daniel  is  hunting — The  neigh- 
borhood begins  to  be  settled — Daniel  is  dissatisfied — 
Settlement  of  Mr.  Bryan — Daniel  Boone  goes  out 
upon  a  fire  hunt — Strange  adventure — Marries  Re- 
becca Brj^an — Makes  a  home  for  himself  on  the  head 
waters  of  the  Yadkin — Men  begin  to  crowd  upon 
him — determines  to  move 13 

CHAPTER  n. 

Early  visits  to  Kentucky — James  M^Bride — Dr.  Wack- 
er  and  others — John  Finlay  goes  to  Kentucky  trad- 
ing with  the  Indians — Returns  with  glowing  ac- 
counts  of  the  country — ^Visits  Daniel   Boone  and 
4    spends  the  winter  with  him — Boone  is  charmed  with 
^    the  stories — ^They  determine  in  the  spring  to  go  to 
J*"    Kentucky — Meeting  at  Boone's  house  in  May — ^With 
iC.     four  companions  they  start  for  the  west — AdvenJiirei 


10  CONTEXTS 

Pa^e 

by  the  way — They  reach  Finlay's  old  station  on  the 

Red  river — Make  their  camp — Amuse  themselves  in 
hunting  and  exploring  the  country — Beauty  of  the 
country — Abundance  of  game — Boone  and  Stewart 
are  taken  by  the  Indians — Make  their  escape — Re- 
turn to  their  camp — It  is  plundered  and  deserted — 
Arrival  of  Squire  Boone — Daniel  Doone  is  rejoiced 
to  hear  from  his  family 26 

CHAPTER  III. 

Hunting  party — Stewart  is  killed  by  the  Indians — nar- 
row escape  of  Daniel  Boone — The  companion  of 
Squire  Boone  returns  home — The  two  brothers  alone 
in  the  wilderness — Cheerfulness  of  Daniel  Boone — 
Squire  returns  to  the  Yadkin  for  ammunition — Dan- 
iel lives  in  the  forest  alone — His  pleasant  wander- 
ings— Singular  escape  from  the  Indians — Encounter 
with  a  bear — Looks  for  the  return  of  his  brother — 
Disappointment — Is  very  sad — Squire  suddenly  ar- 
rives with  ammunition  and  horses — Plans  for  the  fu- 
ture— ^Daniel  Boone  chooses  a  spot  on  the  Kentucky  ' 
river — They  return  for  his  family — Sport  by  the  way 
— They  reach  the  Yadkin — ^Try  to  beat  up  recraits 
for  Kentucky — Ridicule  of  the  people — They  start 
with  five  families — Forty  men  join  them — Disaster 
by  the  way — They  return  to  Clinch  -river-— Various 
employments  of  Boone — He  returns  to  Kentucky — 
Builds  a  fort — Removes  his  family  to  Boonesborough     42 

CHAPTER  IV. 

i 
Comforts  of  Boonesborough — Arrival  of  Colonel  Cal- 

away  and  his  daughters — Capture  of  tliree  giids  by 

the  Indians — Boone  and  C  ala  way  pursue — Are  made 


CONTENTS.  11 

Page 
prisoners — Happy  escape — New  emigrants — County 

of  Kentucky — Indian  warfare — Attacks  upon  Har- 
rodsbm-gh  and  Boonesborough — Expedition  to  the 
saltlicks  on  Licking  river — Courage  of  Boone — Over- 
comes two  Indians — Is  met  by  a  large  Indian  party — 
Made  a  prisoner — ^His  long  captivity  and  escape  59 

CHAPTER  V. 

Indian  customs  noticed  by  Boone  during  bis  captivity — 
Mode  of  hardening  cliildren — Changing  names — 
Marriages — Burials — "War  parties — Celebration  of 
victories — Torturing  prisoners — Making  treaties  of 
peace  .        .        .        ../'    ....    80 

.  CHAPTER  \l. 

Boone's  disappointment  upon  not  finding  his  wife — 
Strengthening  of  Boonesborough — Indian  hostilities 
— Attack  of  Boonesborough — gallant  defence — Boone 
retiirns  to  North  Carolina — Occurrences  during  his 
absence — Boone  returns — Goes  to  the  Blue  Licks 
for  salt — Death  of  the  younger  Boone — Daniel 
Boone  escapes — Kentucky  divided  into  three  counties 
— Hard  winter  of  1781 — Indian  hostilities — Attack 
on  Bryant's  station — Villany  of  Simon  Gii'ty  91 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Disastrous  defeat  at  the  Blue  Licks — General  Clarke's 
campaign — Efforts  to  restore  peace — Sullenness  of 
the  Indians — They  continue  their  massacres — Strata- 
gems on  the  Ohio — Bold  defence  of  Captain  Hubbil 
— Harmar's  campaign — St.  Clair's  defeat — Debate 
m  Congress — General  Wayne  takes  command — De- 
feats the  Indians—Lays  waste  their  country — Con- 


12  CONTENTS. 

Page 

eludes  a  treaty  of  peace  with  the  savages  in  August, 
1795.     .        .        , 109 

CHAPTER  Vm. 

Happiness  of  the  settlers — ^Boone  roams  through  the 
•wilderness — Civilization  sickens  him — ^He  loses  his 
lands — Moves  to  the  Kanhawa—Disappointed  in  find- 
ing game — Moves  to  Missouri — ^Purchase  of  Missou- 
ri from  the  French — ^Anecdote  related  by  Mr.  Audu- 
bon— Boone  loses  his  wife — ^His  sorrow — ^War  with 
England— His  old  age— His  habits— He  dies  in  1818.  127 

APPENDIX. 

The  adventures  of  Colonel  Daniel  BoonS,  formerly  a 
hunter ;  containing  a  narrative  of  the  wars  of  Ken- 
tucky, as  givea  by  himself. 143 


THE 


ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE. 


CHAPTER   I. 


OME  men  choose  to  live  in 
crowded  cities  ; — others    are 
pleased  with  the  peaceful  quiet 
of  a  country  farm  ;  while  some 
love  to  roam  through  wild  for- 
ests, and  make  their  homes  in 
the  wilderness.     The  man  of 
whom  I  shall  now  speak,  was 
one  of  this  last  class.     Perhaps  you 
never  heard  of  Daniel  Boone,  the 
Kentucky  rifleman.     If  not,  then  I 
have  a  strange  and  interesting  story 
to  tell  you. 
If,  when  a  child  was  born,  we  knew 
that  he  was  to  become  a  remarkable  man, 
the  time  and  place  of  his  birth  would, 
perhaps,  be  always  remembered.     But  as  this  can 
not  be  known,  great  mistakes  are  often  raade  on 
these  points.     As  to  the  time  when  Daniel  Boone 
2 


14  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

was  born,  there  is  no  difficulty  ;  but  people  have 
fallen  into  many  blunders  about  the  place.  Some 
have  said  that  he  was  born  in  England,  before  his 
parents  left  that  country  ;  others  that  he  came  into 
-this  world  during  the  passage  of  his  parents  across 
the  Atlantic.  One  has  told  us  that  he  was  born  m 
Virginia  ;  another  in  Maryland  ;  while  many  have 
stated  that  he  was  a  native  of  North  Carolina. 
These  are  all  mistakes.  Daniel  Boone  was  bom 
in  the  year  1746,  in  Bucks  county,  in  the  state  of 
Pennsylvania. 

From  some  cause  or  other,  when  the  boy  was 
but  three  years  old,  his  parents  moved  from  this 
home,  and  settled  upon  the  Schuylkill  river,  not  far 
from  the  to^vn  of  Reading.  Here  they  lived  for 
ten  years  ;  and  it  was  diuing  this  time  that  their 
son  Daniel  began  to  show  his  passion  for  hunting. 
He  was  scarcely  able  to  carry  a  gun,  when  he 
was  shooting  all  the  squirrels,  rackoons,  and  even 
wild-cats  (it  is  said),  that  he  could  find  in  that  re- 
gion. As  he  grew  older,  his  courage  increased, 
and  then  we  find  him  amusing  himself  with  higher 
game.  Other  lads  in  the  neighborhood  were  soon 
taught  by  liim  the  use  of  the  rifle,  and  were  then 
able  to  join  liim  in  his  adventures.  On  one  occa- 
sion, they  all  started  out  for  a  hunt,  and  after 
amusing  themselves  till  it  was  almost  dark,  were 
returning  homeward,  when  suddenly  a  wild  cry 
was  heard  in  the  woods.     The  boys  screamed  out, 


DANIEL    BOONE.  16 

"A  panther  ! 'a  panther  !"  and  ran  off  as  fast  as 
they  could.  ^  Boone  stood  firmly,  looking  around 
for  the  animal.  It  was  a  panther  indeed.  His 
eye  lighted  upon  him  just  in  the  act  of  spring- 
ing toward  him  :  in  an  instant  he  levelled  his  rifle, 
and  shot  him  through  the  heart. 

But  this  sort  of  sport  was  not  enough  for  him. 
He  seemed  resolved  to  go  away  from  men,  and 
live  in  the  forests  with  these  animals.  One  morn- 
ing he  started  off  as  usual,  with  his  rifle  and 
dog.  Night  came  on,  but  Daniel  did  not  re- 
turn to  his  home.  Another  day  and  night  passed 
away,  and  still  the  boy  did  not  make  his  appear- 
ance. His  parents  were  now  greatly  alarmed. 
The  neighbors  joined  them  in  making  search  for 
the  lad.  After  wandering  about  a  great  while, 
they  at  length  saw  smoke  rising  from  a  cabin  in 
the  distance.  Upon  reaching  il,  they  found  the 
boy.  ..  The  floor  of  the  cabin  was  covered  with  the 
skins  of  such  animals  as  he  had  slain,  and  pieces 
of  meat  were  roasting  before  the  fire  for  his  sup- 
per. Here,  at  a  distance  of  three  miles  from  any 
settlement,  he  had  built  his  cabin  of  sods  and 
branches,  and  sheltered  himself  in  the  wilderness. 

It  was  while  his  father  was  living  on  the  head 
waters  of  the  Schuylkill,  that  young  Boone  re- 
ceived, so  far  as  we  know,  all  his  education.  Short 
indeed  were  his  schoolboy  days.  It  happened  that 
an  Irish  schoolmaster  strolled  into  the  settlement, 


1'6  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

and,  by  the  advice  of  Mr.  Boone  and  other  parents, 
opened  a  school  in  the  neighborhood.  It  was  not 
then  as  it  is  now.  Good  schoolhouses  were  not 
scattered  over  the  land  ;  nor  were  schoolmasters 
always  able  to  teach  their  pupils.  The  school- 
house  where  the  boys  of  this  settlement  went  was 
a  log  cabin,  built  in  the  midst  of  the  woods.  The 
schoolmaster  was  a  strange  man :  sometimes  good- 
humored,  and  then  indulging  the  lads  ;  sometimes 
surly  and  ill-natured,  and  then  beating  them  se- 
verely. It  was  his  usual  custom,  after  hearing  the 
first  lessons  of  the  morning,  to  allow  the  children 
to  be  out  for  a  half  hour  at  play,  during  which  time 
he  strolled  off  to  refresh  himself  from  his  labors. 
He  always  walked  in  the  same  direction,  and  the 
boys  thought  that  after  his  return,  when  they 
were  called  in,  he  was  generally  more  cruel  than 
ever.  They  were  whipped  more  severely,  and 
oftentimes  without  any  cause.  They  observed 
this,  but  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  it.  One 
morning  young  Boone  asked  that  he  might  go  out, 
and  had  scarcely  left  the  schoolroom, >vhen  he  saw 
a  squirrel  miming  over  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree. 
True  to  his  nature,  he  instantly  gave  chase,  until 
at  last  the  squirrel  darted  into  a  bower  of  vines 
and  branches.  Boone  thrust  his  hand  in,  and,  to  his 
surprise,  laid  of  hold  of  a  bottle  of  whiskey.  This 
was  in  the  direction  of  his  master's  morning  walks, 
and  he  thought  now  that  he  understood  the  secret  of 


DANIEL    BOONE. 


17 


much  of  his  ill-nature.    He  returned  to  the  school- 
room ;  but  when  they  were  dismissed  for  that  day, 
he  told  some  of  the  larger  boys  of  his  discovery. 
Their  plan  was  soon  arranged.     Early  the  next 
morning  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  having  tartar  emetic 
in  it,  was  placed  in  the  bower,  and  the  other  bottle 
thrown  away.     At  the  usual  hour,  the  lads  were 
sent  out  to  play,  and  the  master  started  on  his 
walk.     But  their  play  was  to  come   afterward  : 
they  longed  for  the  master  to  return.     At  length 
they  Avere  called  in,  and  in  a  little  time  saw  the 
success  of  their  experiment.     The  master  began 
to  look  pale  and  sick,  yet  still  went  on  with  his 
work.     Several  boys  were  called  up,  one  after  the 
other,  to  recite  lessons,  and  all  whipped  soundly, 
whether  right  or  wrong.     At  last  young  Boone 
was  called  out  to  answer  questions  in  arithme- 
tic.    He  came  forward  with  his  slate  and  pencil, 
and  the  master  began  :  "  If  you  subtract  six  from 
nine,  what  remains  ?"  said  he.     "  Three,  sir,"  said 
Boone.     "  Very  good,"  said  the  master  ;  "  now  let 
us  come  to  fractions.     If  you  take  three  quarters 
from  a  whole  number,  what  remains  ?"—"  The 
whole,  sir,"  answered  Boone.     "  You  blockhead !" 
cried  the  master,  beating  him,  "  you  stupid  little 
fool,  how  can  you  show  that  ?"— "  If  I  take  one 
bottle  of  whiskey,"  said  Boone,  "  and  put  in  ita 
place  another  in  which  I  have  mixed  an  emetic, 
the  whole  will  remain,  if  nobody  drinks  it !"    The 
2* 


18  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

Irishman,  dreadfully  sick,  was  now  doubly  enraged. 
He  seized  Boone,  and  commenced  beating  him 
the  children  shouted  and  roared  ;  the  scuffle  con- 
tinued, until  Boone  knocked  the  master  down  upor 
the  floor,  and  rushed  out  of  the  room.  It  Avas  a 
day  of  freedom  now  for  the  lads.  The  story  soon 
ran  through  the  neighborhood  ;  Boone  was  rebuked 
by  his  parents,  but  the  schoolmaster  was  dismissed, 
and  thus  ended  the  boy's  education. 

Thus  freed  from  school,  he  now  returned  more 
ardently  than  ever  to  his  favorite  pursuit.  His 
dog  and  rifle  were  his  constant  companions,  and 
day  after  day  he  started  from  home,  only  to 
roam  through  the  forests.  Hunting  seemed  to 
be  the  only  business  of  his  life  ;  and  he  was  never 
so  happy  as  when  at  night  he  came  home  laden 
with  game.     He  was  an  imtiring  wanderer. 

I  do  not  know  but  that  this  passion  for  roaming 
was  in  some  degree  inherited  by  Daniel  Boone. 
His  father  had  already  had  three  homes  :  one  in 
England,  one  in  Bucks  county,  and  another  on  the 
Schuylkill ;  and  he  now  thought  of  removing  fur- 
ther. It  is  said  that  the  passion  of  Daniel  for 
hunting  was  one  cause  which  prompted  his  father 
to  think  of  this.  Land  was  becoming  scarce,  the 
neighborhood  a  little  crowded,  and  game  less 
abundant ;  and,  to  mend  matters,  he  began  to  cast 
his  eyes  around  for  a  new  home.  He  was  not  long' 
in  choosing  one.     He  had  heard  of  a  rich  and 


DANIEL    BOONE.  19 

beautiful  country  on  the  banks  of  the  Yadkin  river 
in  North  Carolina,  and  l\e  determined  that  this 
should  be  the  next  resting-place  for  him  and  his 
household. 

All  things  were  made  ready  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  the  journey  commenced.  It  was  a  fine  spring 
morning  when  the  father  started  for  his  new  home, 
with  his  wife  and  children,  his  flocks  and  herds. 
Their  journey  lay  hundreds  of  miles  through  a 
trackless  wilderness  ;  yet  with  cheerful  and  fear- 
less hearts  they  pressed  onward.  When  hungr}% 
they  feasted  upon  venison  and  wild  turkeys  (for 
Daniel,  with  his  rifle,  was  in  company) ;  when 
thirsty,  they  found  cool  springs  of  water  to  refresh 
them  by  the  way ;  when  wearied  at  night,  they 
laid  themselves  down  and  slept  under  the  wide- 
spreading  branches  of  the  forest.  At  length  they 
reached  the  land  they  looked  for,  and  the  father 
found  it  to  be  all  that  he  expected.  The  woods  in 
that  region  were  unbroken ;  no  man  seemed  yet  to 
have  found  them.  Land  was  soon  cleared,  a  cabin 
built,  and  the  father  in  a  little  time  found  himself 
once  more  happily  settled  with  his  family. 

The  old  man  with  his  other  sons  went  busily  to  the 
work  of  making  a  farm.  As  for  Daniel,  they  knew 
it  was  idle  to  expect  his  help  in  such  employment, 
and  therefore  left  him  to  roam  about  with  his 
rifle.  This  was  a  glorious  country  for  the  youth  ; 
wild  woods  Avere  all  around  him,  and  the  game, 


20  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

having  not  yet  learned  to  fear  the  crack  of  the  rifla 
wandered  fearlessly  througli  them.  This  he  though 
was,  of  all  places,  the  home  for  Mm.  I  hope  yoi 
will  not  think  that  he  was  the  idle  and  useless  boj 
of  the  family,  for  it  was  not  so.  While  the  farm 
was  improving,  Daniel  was  supplying  the  family 
with  provisions.  The  table  at  home  was  always 
filled  with  game,  and  they  had  enough  and  to  spare. 
Their  house  became  known  as  a  wann-hearted 
and  hospitable  abode  ;  for  the  wayfaring  wanderer, 
when  lost  in  the  woods,  was  sure  to  find  here  a 
welcome,  a  shelter,  and  an  abundance.  Then,  too, 
if  money  was  wanted  in  the  family,  the  peltries 
of  the  animals  shot  by  Daniel  supplied  it :  so 
that  he  was,  in  a  large  degree,  tM  supporter 
of  the  household.  In  this,  way  years  rolled  on- 
ward— the  farm  still  enlarging  and  improving, 
Daniel  still  hunting,  and  the  home  one  of  constant 
peace,  happiness,  and  plenty. 

At  length  the  story  of  the  success  and  comfort 
of  the  family  brought  neighbors  around  them.  Dif-  < 
ferent  parts  of  the  forests  began  to  be  cleared ; 
smoke  was  soon  seen  rising  from  new  cabins ; 
and  the  sharp  crack  of  other  rifles  than  Daniel's 
was  sometimes  heard  in  the  morning.  This  grieved 
him  sadly.  Most  people  would  have  been  pleased 
to  find  neighbors  in  the  loneliness  of  the  woods  ; 
but  what  pleased  others  did  not  please  him.  They 
were  crowding  upon  him ;  they  were  driving  away 


DANIEL    BOONE.  21 

his  game  :  this  was  his  trouble.  But,  after  all, 
there  was  one  good  farmer  who  came  into  the  re- 
gion and  made  his  settlement ;  which  settlement, 
as  it  turned  out,  proved  a  happy  thing  for  Daniel. 
This  was  a  very  worthy  man  named  Bryan. 
He  cleared  his  land,  built  his  cabin  upon  a  sloping 
iiill,  not  very  far  from  Mr.  Boone's,  and  before 
a  great  while,  by  dint  of  industry,  had  a  good  farm 
of  more  than  a  hundred  acres.  This  farm  was 
beautifully  situated.  A  pretty  stream  of  water 
almost  encircled  it.  On  the  banks  of  the  Schuyl- 
kill, Daniel  Boone  found  all  his  education,  such 
as  it  was  ;  on  the  banks  of  the  Yadkin  he  found 
something  far  better.  I  must  tell  you  now  of  a 
very  strange  adventure. 

One  evening,  mth  another  young  friend,  he 
started  out  upon  what  is  called  a  '■'- fire-hunt P  Per- 
haps you  do  not  know  what  this  means.  I  will 
explain  it  to  you.  Two  people  are  always  neces- 
sary for  a  fire-hunt.  One  goes  before,  carrying  a 
blazing  torch  of  pitch-pine  wood  (or  lightwood,  as 
it  is  called  in  the  southern  country),  while  the  other 
follows  behind  with  his  rifle.  In  this  way  the  two 
himters  move  through  the  forests.  When  an  ani- 
mal is  startled,  he  will  stand  gazing  at  the  light, 
and  his  eyes  may  be  seen  shining  distinctly :  this 
is  called  ^^  shining  the  eyes.^^  The  hunter  with  the 
rifle,  thus  seeing  him,  while  the  other  shines  him, 
levels  his  gun  with  steady  aim,  and  has  a  fair  shot. 


23  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

This  mode  of  hunting  is  still  practised  in  many 
parts  of  our  country,  and  is  everywhere  known  as 
a  jire-hunt. 

Boone,  with  his  companion,  started  out  upon  such 
a  hunt,  and  very  soon  reached  the  woods  skirting 
the  lower  end  of  Mr.  Bryan's  farm.  It  seems  they 
were  on  horseback,  Boone  being  behind  with  the 
rifle.  They  had  not  gone  far,  when  his  companion 
reined  up  his  horse,  and  two  eyes  were  seen 
distinctly  shining.  Boone  levelled  his  rifle,  but 
something  prevented  his  firing.  Tl^e  animal  darted 
off.  Boone  leaped  from  his  horse,  left  his  com- 
panion, and  instantly  dashed  after  it.  It  was  too 
dark  to  see  plainly,  still  he  pursued  ;  he  was  close 
upon  its  track,  when  a  fence  coming  in  the  way, 
the  animal  leaped  it  with  a  clear  bound.  Boone 
climbed  over  as  fast  as  he  could  with  his  rifle,  but 
the  game  had  got  ahead.  Nothing  daunted  by  this, 
he  pushed  on,  until  he  found  himself  at  last  not  very 
far  from  Mr.  Bryan's  home.  But  the  animal  was 
gone.  It  was  a  strange  chase.  He  determined  to  go 
into  Mr  Bryan's  house,  and  tell  his  adventure.  As 
he  drew  near,  the  dogs  raised  a  loud  barking,  the 
master  came  out,  bade  him  welcome,  and  carried 
him  into  the  house.  Mr.  Bryan  had  scarcely  in 
troduced  him  to  his  family  as  "  the  son  of  hi? 
neighbor  Boone,"  when  suddenly  the  door  of  the 
room  was  burst  open,  and  in  rushed  a  little  lad  of 
seven,  followed  by  a  girl  of  sixteen  years,  crying 


DANIEL    BOONE.  23 

out, "  0  father  !  father!  sister  is  frightened  to  death! 
She  went  down  to  the  river,  and  was  chased  by  a 
panther  !"  The  hunter  and  his  game  had  met. 
There  stood  Boone,  leaning  upon  his  rifle,  and 
Rebecca  Bry-an  before  him,  gasping  for  breath. 
From  that  moment  he  continued  to  pursue  it ; 
Farmer  Bryan's  house  became  a  favorite  resort 
for  him  ;  he  loved  it  as  well  as  the  Avoods.  The 
business  was  now  changed :  Rebecca  Bryan  com- 
pletely shined  his  eyes ;  and  after  a  time,  to  the 
great  joy  of  themselves  and  both  families,  Daniel 
Boone  and  Rebecca  Bryan  were  mamed.  It 
proved,  as  you  will  see,  a  very  happy  marriage  to 
both  parties. 

Being  now  a  married  man,  it  became  Daniel 
Boone's  duty  to  seek  a  new  home  for  himself.  In 
a  little  time,  therefore,  he  left  his  wife,  and  wan- 
dered into  the  unsettled  parts  of  North  Carolina  in 
search  of  one.  After  moving  about  for  some 
time,  he  found,  upon  the  head-waters  of  the 
Yadkin,  a  rich  soil,  covered  with  a  heavy  and  once 
more  unbroken  forest.  "  Here,"  thought  Daniel 
Boone,  "  is1;he  resting-place  forme  ;  here  Rebecca 
Bryan  and  myself  may  be  happy :  this  shall  be 
our  home."  He  returned  to  his  wife,  and  she, 
with  a  cheerful  heart,  joined  in  all  his  plans. 
With  tears  in  her  eyes,  she  bade  farewell  to  her 
friends  ;  yet,  with  a  light  spirit,  she  started  off 
with  her  husband.     A  clearing  in  the  woods  was 


24  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

soon  made,  a  log  cabin  of  his  ov^m  soon  built,  and 
a  portion  of  ground  planted.  Boone  seems  now  to 
have  thought  that  he  must  do  something  more  than 
use  his  rifle.  He  was  to  make  a  home  for  his  wife  ; 
and  busied  himself,  accordingly,  in  enlarging  hia 
farm  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  industriously  cul- 
tivating it.  Still,  on  his  busiest  day,  he  would 
find  a  leisure  hour  to  saunter  with  his  gun  to 
the  woods,  and  was  sure  never  to  return  with- 
out game.  His  own  table  was  loaded  with  it, 
as  when  at  his  father's,  and  his  house,  like  his 
father's,  soon  became  knoAvn  as  a  warm  and  kind 
shelter  for  the  wandering  traveller.  In  this  indus- 
trious and  quiet  way  of  farming  and  hunting,  years 
were  spent,  and  Daniel  Boone  was  contented  and 
happy.  Several  little  children  were  now  added  to 
his  group ;  and,  with  his  wife,  his  children,  and  his 
rifle,  for  companions,  he  felt  that  all  was  well. 

But  his  peace  was  at  length  disturbed  once  more. 
His  old  troubles  pursued  him ;  men  again  began  to 
come  near.  The  crash  of  falling  trees  was  heard, 
as  the  new  settlers  levelled  the  forests  ;  huts  were 
seen  springing  up  all  around  him ;  other  hunters 
were  roaming  through  the  woods,  and  other  dogs 
than  his  were  heard  barking.  This  was  more 
than  he  was  willing  to  bear.  Happy  as  he  had 
made  his  home,  he  determined  to  leave  it,  and  find 
another  in  the  wilderness,  where  he  could  have 
that  wilderness  to  himself.     For  some  time  he  was 


DANIEL    BOONE.  )0 

at  a  loss  to  know  where  to  go  ;  yet"  his  heart  was 
fixed  in  the  determination  to  move.  The  circum- 
stances which  pointed  him  to  his  new  home,  and 
where  that  new  home  was  made,  you  may  learn  in 
the  next  chapter 

a 


2B 


THE    ADVENTURES   OF 


CHAPl ER    n 


Y  young  friends  all  know  where 
the  state  of  Kentucky  is  situ- 
ated. It  is  hardly  necessary  for 
me  to  say,  that  at  the  time  of 
*#^  which  I  am  writing,  that  region 
was  an  unbroken  wilderness. 

It  was  in  the  year  1754  that 
a  white  man  first  -vdsited  the 
country  of  Kentucky.  This  was 
James  M'Bride.  In  company  with 
several  others  during  that  year,  he 
was  passing  down  the  Ohio,  when 
he  discovered  the  mouth  of  Ken- 
tucky river,  and  made  a  landing.  Near 
spot  where  he  landed,  he  cut  upon 
tree  the  first  letters  of  his  name  ;  an(i 
these  letters,  it  is  said,  could  be  seen  and  distinctly 
read  for  many  years  afterward.  With  liis  com- 
panions, he  wandered  through  the  wilderness  ;  the 
country  struck  them  all  as  being  remarkably  beau- 
tiful. It  is  not  wonderful,  then,  that  when  they 
returned  home,  they  were  filled  with  fine  stories 


DANIEL    BOONE.  27 

about  the  new  region.  They  declared  that  it  was 
*' the  best  tract  of  land  in  North  America,  and 
Urobably  in  the  world." 

In  spite  of  their  pleasant  stories,  however,  it  was 
Jt  long  time  before  any  one  was  disposed  to  follow 
in  their  track.  At  length,  Doctor  Walker,  of  Vir- 
ginia, with  a  nmnber  of  friends,  started  upon  a 
western  tour  of  discoveiy.  Some  say  that  he  was 
in  search  of  the  Ohio  river  particularly;  others 
that  he  went  merely  to  collect  strange  plants  and 
flowers.  Be  this  as  it  may,  he  with  his  party 
wandered  through  Powell's  Valley,  and  passed  the 
mountains  at  what  is  called  the  Cumberland  Gap. 
They  then  crossed  the  Cumberland  river,  and  roam- 
ing on  through  the  forests,  at  length,  after  much 
fatigue  and  suffering,  reached  the  Big  Sandy.  The 
country  was  beautiful,  yet  they  were  too  much 
worn  out  to  go  further,  and  from  this  point  began 
to  return  homeward.  They  had  suffered  more  than 
M' Bride,  and  therefore  their  story  was  not  so  bright 
as  his  ;  yet  they  gave  a  very  pleasant  account  of 

"the  new  country. 

-No  one  yet,  however,  seemed  ready  to  make 
his  home  in  Kentucky  ;  and  accident  at  last  seems 
to  have  thrown  one  man  into  that  country,  whose 
story,  upon  his  return,  made  some  anxious  to  go 

"there.  This  was  John  Finley,  a  backwoodsman 
of  North  Carolina.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  roving 
about  and  trading  with  the  Indians.     In  the  year 


28  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

1767,  he,  with  certain  companions  as  fearless  as 
himself,  led  on  from  place  to  place  by  the  course 
of  trade,  wandered  far  into  Kentncky.  Here  he 
remained  for  some  time.  It  was  a  very  beautiful, 
yet,  as  he  learned  also,  a  very  dangerous  country. 
No  Indian  tribe  lived  there,  but  all  the  tribes 
roamed  over  it  as  a  hunting-ground.  Upon  these 
hunts,  the  fierce  and  warlike  people  would  often 
meet  and  wage  their  bloody  battles.  These  fights 
were  so  frequent  and  so  awful,  that  the  region  was 
known  by  the  name  of  the  "  Dark  and  Bloody 
Ground."  In  spite  of  danger,  Finley  Kved  there, 
until  at  last  the  traders  and  the  Indians  began  to 
quarrel,  and,  for  safety's  sake,  he  was  forced  to 
run  off.  He  returned  to  North  Carolina,  filled  with 
wonderful  stories.  Sights  like  those  on  the  "  Dark 
and  Bloody  Ground,"  were  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
The!*  land  w^as  rich,  and  covered  with  trees  and 
flowers  ;^there  were  lofty  mountains,  beautiful  val- 
leys, and  clear  streams,  throughout  it.  Then  he 
spoke  of  the  strange  caves  in  the  mountains  ;  of 
curious  salt  springs  ;  of  the  foot-prints  of  men  to 
be  seen  distinctly  upon  the  solid  rocks  ;  of  the 
strange  figures  of  huge  animals  on  the  sides  of  the 
high  clifis.  Game  of  all  sorts  was  abundant,  from 
the  bufialo  down  to  the  partridge.  There  was  no 
country  (he  declared)  like  Kain-tuck-kee*  .His 
*  This  was  the  Indian  name  for  the  country. 


DANIEL    BOONE,  29 

tale  was  so  wonderful,  that  people  could  not  well 
kelp  listening  to  it. 

Whether  John  Finley  was  led  there  by  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  man's  character,  or  whether  it  was  an 
accident,  it  so  happened,  that  about  a  year  after  his 
return,  he  wandered  into  the  neighborhood  of  Dan- 
iel Boone's  home.     It  was  not  long  before  he  fell 
in  with  Boone,  and  completely  charmed  liim  with 
his  stories.     Boone  had  known  some  sport  in  the 
forests  himself,  but  the  adventures  of  Finley  were 
to  him  marvellous.     He  was  so  much  pleased  with 
the  man,  that  he  invited  him,  as  it  was  now  winter, 
to  come  to  his  house,  and  make  his  home  there 
through  the  season.     The  invitation  was  gladly 
accepted  ;  and  in  the  cabin  of  Boone,  again  and 
again  was  the  wild  beauty  of  the  "  Dark  and  Bloody 
Ground"  laid  before  him.     There  was  no  end  to 
Finley's  stories  of  this  region .     The  wind  whistled 
without,  but  the  fire  blazed  cheerfully  within ;  and 
here  they  sat,  on  many  a  night,  almost  till  dawn, 
Finley  talking,  and  Boone  listening.     The  end  of 
PiU  this  was,  that  they  determined,  when  spring 
opened,  to  go  to   Kentucky.     Boone  knew  that 
there  were  hardsliips  and  perils  in  the  way,  and 
Finley  had  practically  felt  them  ;  but  what  were 
dangers  or  difficuUies  to  these  fearless  men  ?   The 
first  of  May  was  agreed  upon  as  the  day  for  start- 
ing, and  Finley  was  then  again  to  meet  Boone  at 
his  house. 


30  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

It  is  not  strange  that  other  bold  men,  who 
heard  Finley's  stories,  were  seized  with  the  same 
desire  for  going  west.  Indeed,  Boone  helped  to 
give  them  that  desire,  knowing  that  a  few  brave 
spirits  would  be  of  great  service  in  the  new  coun- 
try. He  talked,  therefore,  warmly  of  the  comforts 
of  a  new  home  in  the  forest,  where  there  was  an 
abundance  of  game,  and  a  complete  absence  of 
towns  and  villages.  Accordingly,  on  the  first  of 
May,  1769,  when  Finley  repaired  to  Boone's  house, 
he  found  four  others  ready  for  the  adventure  :  these 
were  John  Stewart,  Joseph  Holden,  James  Monay, 
and  William  Cool.  The  people  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, learning  ^what  was  going  on,  had  likewise 
gathered  to  look  with  surprise  upon  these  six  men. 
What  could  prompt  men  to  leave  the  comforts  of 
their  quiet  homes,  and  wander  off  into  the  wilder- 
ness 1  They  surely  were  crazy.  Boone  was  much 
beloved  as  a  kind  neighbor,  and  they  mourned  most 
over  his  madness.  Nothing  daunted  by  all  this, 
they  were  then  ready  for  a  start,  and  were  now  on 
the  point  of  leaving.  We  are  told  that,  with  teases 
in  his  eyes,  Daniel  Boone  kissed  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren ;  and  if  the  story  be  true,  I  love  him  the  more 
for  it.  His  spirit  was  beating  for  his  new  hunting- 
forests  ;  he  could  face  all  the  dangers  of  the 
"  Dark  and  Bloody  Ground,"  but  then  it  was  doubt- 
ful whether  he  was  not  parting  with  his  wife  and 
children  for  ever.     At  all  events,  he  was  leaving 


DANIEL    BOONE.  31 

them  for  months,  perhaps  for  years — he  knew 
not  how  long — and  who  can  wonder  that  tears  stood 
^1  his  eyes?  Each  man  shouldered  his  rifle, 
shot-bag,  powder-horn,  and  knapsack,  and  off 
they  started — every  neighbor  straining  his  eyes 
after  them  as  far  as  he  could  see,  as  the  men  upon 
whom  he  was  looking  for  the  last  time. 

For  two  or  tliree  days  they  saw  nothing  new,  for 
they  were  passing  over  their  old  hunting-grounds. 
After  this,  they  came  to  a  wild  and  trackless  region, 
and  saw  from  time  to  time  the  lofty  ridge  of  moun- 
tains which  separated  them  from  the  western  coun- 
try. In  two  days  more,  the  provisions  with  which 
rney  had  started  gave  out,  and  the  first  thing  to  be 
done  was  to  find  a  fresh  supply.  Accordingly  tiiey 
halted,  chose  a  suitable  spot  for  their  camp,  and 
part  of  them  commenced  building  it  of  logs  and 
branches  ;  the  others  went  into  the  woods  in  search 
of  game.  It  was  impossible  for  such  men  to  starve 
in  such  a  region ;  game  was  abundant.  The  hunt- 
ers returned  toward  night,  with  several  deer  and 
wild  turkeys.  The  camp  was  finished,  a  bright 
fire  was  burning,  and  in  a  little  time  the  venison 
was  dressed,  cooked,  and  eaten.  The  supper  was 
scarcely  finished,  when  they  saw  dark  clouds  gath- 
ering, and  presently  they  were  visited  by  a  tremen- 
dous thunder-storm.  The  sharp  lightning  flashed 
through  the  woods,  and  the  rain  poured  down  in  tor- 
rents ;  yet,  in  their  camp  they  fearlessly  sheltered 


32  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

themselves,  the  branches  covering  them  from  the 
rain.  A  man  can  scarcely  be  placed  during  a  thun- 
der-storm in  a  more  dangerous  place  than  a  forest : 
every  tree  is  a  mark  for  the  lightning  ;  yet  these 
men  were  calm  and  self-possessed,  and  were  mer- 
cifully protected. 

The  storm  having  passed  over,  they  made  their 
arrangements  for  the  night.  For  safety's  sake*  two 
men  were  to  keep  a  constant  watch,  while  the 
others  slept ;  and  in  tliis  duty  of  watching,  they 
were  to  take  turns.  About  midnight,  while  Boone 
and  Holden  were  keeping  the  watch,  a  sharp  shiill 
cry  was  heard  in  the  woods.  They  sprang  to  their 
feet.  "  What  noise  is  that  ?"  said  Holden.  The 
sound  was  familiar  to  Boone.  "  Be  still,"  said 
he  ;  "  it  is  only  a  panther  ;  come  along  with  me." 
Moving  cautiously  from  the  camp,  they  listened 
again  for  the  cry.  Once  more  they  heard  it. 
Creeping  through  the  woods  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound,  they  at  length  saw  through  the  darkness 
the  wild,  glaring  eyes  of  the  animal.  Boone  lev- 
elled his  rifle  with  steady  aim,  and  fired.  With  a 
wild  yell  the  panther  fell  to  the  ground,  and  began 
to  retreat.  Both  were  satisfied  that  the  ball  had 
struck  him,  and  retiu-ned  again  to  the  camp.  The 
crack  of  the  rifle  had  waked  their  companions  ;  the 
adventure  was  made  known  to  them,  and  they  went 
quietly  to  sleep  again,  satisfied  that  for  the  rest  of 
the  night  at  least  that  panther  would  not  disturb  them. 


DANIEL    BOONE.  33 

The  next  day  was  a  very  busy  one.  Finding 
game  so  plenty  in  the  neighborhood,  they  deter- 
mined to  lay  in  a  good  supply.  Part  of  them  were 
therefore  out  in  the  woods,  himting,  while  the  rest 
were  in  the  camp,  smoking,  drying,  and  packing 
the  venison  for  the  journey.  Fatigued  with  these 
labors,  when  night  came  they  gladly  laid  them- 
selves down,  and,  like  wearied  men,  slept  soundly. 

By  the  first  ray  of  the  morning's  light  the  camp 
was  stirring.  Shouldering  their  rifles  and  knap- 
sacks, they  started  on  their  way.  In  a  little  time 
they  found  a  dead  panther.  Boone  declared  that 
this  was  his  panther  ;  the  animal  was  killed  with 
one  ball,  and  by  comparing  that  ball  with  those  in 
his  shot-bag,  he  found  they  were  of  the  same  size. 
In  two  or  three  days  they  reached  the  foot  of  the 
mountains,  and  began  to  ascend.  Their  journey 
was  now  rough  and  wearisome,  and  they  made 
slow  progress.  To  any  men  but  these,  the  moun- 
tains might  have  proved  impassable  ;  but  they  were 
bent  upon  finding  the  new  hunting-grounds  of  Ken- 
tucky, and  nothing  could  keep  them  back.  After 
climbing  the  hills  day  after  day,  they  found  once 
more  that  their  provisions  were  gone,  and  were 
again  forced  to  halt.  Their  camp  was  built  on  the 
side  of  the  mountain,  and  their  rifles  easily  supplied 
their  wants.  The  journey  was  rigorously  renewed, 
and  after  many  days  of  further  struggling,  they  ai 
length  found  themselves  on  one  of  the  tops  of  the 


34  THE    ADVENTURES    OP 

Allegany  ridge.  Here  they  were,  upon  Cumber 
land  mountain.  At  this  place  they  halted  once  more, 
to  look  down  upon  the  magnificent  prospect  which 
was  spread  out  before  them.  This  was  their  first 
view  of  the  new  region,  and  they  felt  that  it  was 
all  that  Finley  had  described  it  to  be.  It  was  in- 
deed a  glorious  country.  The  land  was  covered 
with  trees  and  flowers  ;  there  were  the  rolling 
hills,  and  the  beautiful  valleys,  and  the  clear 
sparkling  streams,  of  which  he  had  spoken. 

The  prospect  was  too  beautiful  to  allow  them  to 
tarry  long :  they  panted  to  be  in  that  country. 
With  m.ore  earnest  desires  than  ever,  they  com- 
menced descending  the  mountains.  This  part  of 
the  journey  was  comparatively  easy.  In  a  few 
days  now  they  reached  the  western  base  of  the 
hills,  and  entered  a  lovely  plain.  Here,  for  the 
first  time,  the  new  hunters  saw  the  finest  of 
western  game — a  herd  of  buffaloes.  From  the  skirt 
of  the  wood  at  the  end  of  the  plain,  a  countless 
troop  of  these  animals  came  rushing  over  it.  The 
men  were  delighted  ;  they  had  heard  of  these  noble 
beasts  of  the  forest,  but  none  of  them,  except  Fin- 
ley,  had  ever  seen  one.  As  the  mass  came 
tramping  toward  them,  they  stood  gazing  in  as- 
tonishment. Finley,  who  knew  that  men  were 
sometimes  trampled  to  death  by  these  moving 
troops,  kept  his  eye  steadily  upon  the  herd  until 
the  foremost  was  witliin  rifle-shot ;  he  then  levelled 


DANIEL    BOONE.  35 

his  gim,  and  the  leader  fell  dead!  With  a  wild 
bellow  the  herd  parted  on  each  side  of  the  fallen 
animal,  and  went  scampering  through  the  plain. 
There  seemed  no  end  to  the  nmnber,  as  they  still 
came  rushing  from  the  wood.  The  mass  appeared 
closing  again  in  a  solid  body,  when  he  seized 
Holden's  rifle,  and  shot  another.  Now  they  were 
completly  routed  ;  branching  off  on  the  two  sides 
of  the  plain,  they  went  bellowing  and  tearing  past 
them.  "  An  amazing  country,  this  !"  cried  Boone  ; 
"  who  ever  beheld  such  an  abundance  ?"  The 
camp  was  once  more  soon  built,  a  blazing  fire 
made,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  five  of 
these  men  sat  down  to  a  supper  of  bufTalo-meat. 
They  talked  of  their  new  country,  the  quan- 
tity of  game,  and  how  joyously  they  would  roam 
through  the  huge  forests,  until  the  night  had  worn 
far  away. 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  they  packed 
up  such  portions  of  the  animals  as  they  could 
readily  carry,  and  resumed  their  march.  In  a  little 
time  they  reached  Red  river.  Here  Finley  began 
to  feel  more  at  home,  for  on  this  river  he  had  lived. 
Following  the  course  of  the  stream,  ere  long  they 
came  to  the  place  which  had  been  his  trading-post 
with  the  Indians.  They  had  been  more  than  a 
month  reaching  this  point,  and,  naturally  enough, 
were  wearied.  Finley,  too,  could  no  longer  guide 
them  ;  and  here,  for  the  present,  they  determined 


36  THE    ADVENTURES    Of 

to  halt  again.     It  was  now  the  seventh  day  o2 
June. 

As  this  was  to  be  their  headquarters  for  some 
time,  they  built  at  once  a  substantial  log  cabin. 
They  were  now  fairly  in  the  wilds  of  Ken- 
tucky ;  and  remembering  that  the  whole  region 
was  the  fighting-ground  of  the  wandering  Indians, 
the  cabin  was  built  not  only  to  protect  them  from  the 
weather,  but  to  answer  as  a  sort  of  fort  against  the 
savages.  This  shelter  being  provided,  their  whole 
time  now  was  given  to  hunting  and  exploring  the 
country.  Hunting  was  a  pastime  indeed,  the  game 
was  so  abundant.  They  could  look  out  upon  herds 
of  buffaloes  scattered  through  the  canebrakes, 
browsing  upon  the  leaves  of  the  cane,  or  cropping 
the  tall  grass  ;  the  deer  bounded  fearlessly  by  the 
very  door  of  their  hut,  and  wild  turkeys  were  to 
be  found  everywhere.  Everything  was  in  a  state 
of  nature  ;  the  animals  had  not  yet  learned  to  be 
afraid  of  man.  Of  course,  they  did  not  suffer  with 
hunger  :  provisions  of  the  finest  kind  were  ever  in 
their  cabin.  But  the  buffaloes  provided  them  with 
more  than  food.  From  time  to  time,  as  they  need- 
ed moccasins  for  their  feet,  his  skin  supplied  them ; 
and  when  at  night  they  felt  the  dampness  of  the 
weather,  his  hide  was  the  blanket  in  which  they 
wrapped  themselves  and  slept  soundly. 

The  country,  as  they  wandered  through  it,  struck 
them  as  beautiful  indeed.     There  were  the  lofty 


DANIEL    BOONE.  37 

trees  of  the  forest,  with  no  undergrowth  except 
the  cane,  the  grass,  and  the  flowers.  They 
seemed  to  have  been  planted  by  the  hand  of  man  at 
regular  distances.  Clear  streams  were  seen  wind- 
ing through  lovely  meadows,  surrounded  by  the 
gently-sloping  hills  ;  and  the  fearless  buflfalo  and 
deer  were  their  companions  every  hour.  In  their 
wanderings  they  came  several  times  to  hard  and 
well-tramped  roads.  It  was  by  following  these 
that  they  discovered  many  of  the  salt  springs  or 
licks  where  salt  is  made  even  now.  The  roads 
to  these  were  worn  thus  hard  by  the  buffaloes 
and  other  animals  that  were  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
the  springs. 

The  place  of  Finley's  old  trading-post,  where 
their  cabin  now  stood,  seems  to  have  been  chosen 
by  him  not  only  as  a  central  point  for  trade  :  it  was 
on  the  side  of  a  finely-sloping  hill,  and  command- 
ed a  good  view  of  the  country  below.  The  situa- 
tion was  beautiful.  Perhaps  he  chose  it  when  he 
was  a  lonely  white  man  in  the  wildernes  5,  because 
thence  he  might  readily  see  the  ap;)roach  of 
Indians,  and  make  his  escape,  or  perhaps  it  was 
the  very  beauty  of  the  spot  that  charmed  him.  He 
nad  a  love  for  the  beautiful.  One  day,  he  and  Boone 
were  standing  by  the  door  of  the  cabin.  The 
wind  was  sighing  in  the  tops  of  the  forest,  and 
while  they  were  listening  to  the  music,  they  were 
looking  out  upon  the  beautiful  region  below  ;  the 
4 


38  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

grass  was  green,  and  the  bright  flowers  turned  up 
their  leaves  to  the  sun.  "  Glorious  country!"  cried 
Finley ;  "  this  wilderness  does  indeed  blossom  like 
the  rose." — "  Yes,"  replied  Boone,  "  and  who 
would  live  amid  the  barren  pine-hills  of  North  Car- 
olina, to  hear  the  screaming  of  the  jay,  and  now 
and  then  shoot  a  deer  too  lean  to  be  eaten  ?  This 
is  the  land  for  hunters.  Here  man  and  beast  may 
grow  to  their  full  size." 

In  this  way,  for  more  than  six  months,  these 
men  fearlessly  hunted  and  roamed  through  the 
woods.  Contrary  to  their  expectations,  through 
the  whole  summer  they  saw  no  Indians,  nor  did 
they  meet  with  any  remarkable  adventure.  The 
precaution  of  a  nightly  watch  was  adopted,  but 
they  met  with  no  disturbance  from  man  or  beast. 
They  had  glorious  sport  by  day,  and  slept  quietly 
at  night.  After  this,  as  you  will  see,  they  began 
to  meet  difficulties. 

On  the  22d  of  December,  Boone  and  Stewart 
started  off*,  as  they  had  often  done  before,  upon  an 
exploring  tour.  After  wandering  several  miles, 
they  pressed  their  way  through  a  piece  of  thick 
woods,  and  came  out  upon  a  boundless  open  forest. 
Here  they  found  quantities  of  persimmon-tre;^* . 
loaded  with  ripe  fruit,  while  clusters  of  wild  gr-^ces 
covered  the  vines  that  were  hanging  from  the  lofty 
branches .  Flowers  were  still  in  bloom,  and  scented 
the  air ;  herds  of  animals  might  be  seen  through 


DANIEL    BOONE.  39 

the  forest  in  every  direction  :  add  to  this  that  the 
day  was  beautiful,  and  you  will  not  be  surprised  to 
learn  that  they  continued  to  wander — indeed,  that 
they  wandered  much  further  than  they  supposed. 
It  was  nearly  dark  when  they  reached  the  Ken- 
tucky river,  and  stood  looking  upon  its  rippling 
waters.  Perceiving  a  hill  close  by,  they  climbed 
it,  that  they  might  take  a  better  view  of  the  course 
of  the  stream.  They  were  now  descending,  on 
their  way  homeward,  when  suddenly  they  heard 
an  Indian  yell,  and  out  rushed  from  the  canebrake 
a  party  of  savages.  They  had  no  time  for  re- 
sistance— indeed,  time  was  nothing ;  they  were 
overpowered  by  numbers.  The  savages  seized 
them,  took  away  their  rifles  and  ammunition, 
bound  them,  and  marched  them  off  to  their 
camp.  The  next  morning  they  started  off  with 
their  prisoners,  the  poor  fellows  not  knowing 
where  they  were  going,  or  what  was  to  be 
done  to  them.  They  did  not  know  one  word  of 
their  language,  and  could  therefore  learn  noth- 
ing :  this  much,  however,  they  very  well  under- 
stood— that  it  would  not  do  to  show  any  signs  of 
fear  to  the  Indians  ;  and  therefore  they  went  on 
cheerfully.  In  a  little  time  they  became  better 
acquainted  with  their  captors,  and  judged,  from 
certain  signs,  that  the  Indians  themselves  had  not 
determined  what  was  to  be  done.  Part  seemed  *o 
be  for  sparing  them,  part  for  killing ;  still  their  cheer- 


40  THE    ADVENTURES    O? 

-fulness  was  the  same.  This  apparent  fearlessness 
deceived  the  Indians  ;  they  supposed  the  prisoners 
were  well  pleased  with  their  condition,  and  did  not 
watch  them  closely.  On  the  seventh  night  of 
their  march,  the  savages,  as  usual,  made  their 
camp,  and  all  laid  down  to  sleep.  About  mid- 
night, Boone  touched  Stewart,  and  waked  him : 
now  or  never  was  their  time.  They  rose,  groped 
their  way  to  the  rifles,  and  stole  from  the  camp. 
They  hardly  dared  to  look  behind  them  ;  every 
sound  startled  them,  even  the  snapping  of  the  twigs 
under  their  feet.  Fortunately,  it  was  dark,  even 
if  the  Indians  pursued.  They  wandered  all  that 
night  and  the  whole  of  the  next  day,  when  at  last, 
without  meeting  a  man,  they  reached  their  own 
camp.  But  what  was  their  surprise  on  finding  the 
camp  plundered,  and  not  one  of  their  companions 
to  be  seen  ?  What  had  become  of  them  ?  Perhaps 
they  were  prisoners  ;  possibly  they  were  murdered ; 
or  it  might  be  that  they  had  started  back  for  North 
Carolina.  They  were  safe,  but  where  were  their 
comrades  ?  Wearied  in  body,  and  tormented  with 
fears  for  their  friends,  they  commenced  preparing 
for  the  night.  A  sound  was  now  heard.  They 
seized  their  rifles,  and  stood  ready,  expecting  the 
Indians.  Two  men  were  seen  indistinctly  ap- 
proaching. "  Who  comes  there  ?"  cried  Boone. 
"  White  men  and  friends,"  was  the  answer.  Boone 
knew  the  voice.     In  an  instant  more,  his  brother 


DANIEL    BOONE.  41 

Squire  Boone,  with  another  man,  entered  the  cabin. 
These  two  men  had  set  out  from  Carolina  for  the 
purpose  of  reaching  them,  and  had  for  days  been 
wandering  in  search  of  their  camp.  It  was  a  joyous 
meeting — the  more  joyous,  because  unexpected. 
Big  tears  were  again  in  Daniel  Boone's  eyes  when 
he  heard,  from  his  brother,  that  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren were  well. 

4* 


42 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF 


CHAPTER    III 


HEN  Squire  Boone  had  told 

his  brother  all  the  news  of 
home,  it  became  his  turn  to  be 
a  listener,  while  Daniel  talked 
to  him  of  all  that  happened 
since  they  parted.  After  tel- 
ling him  of  the  beautiful  coun- 
try, and  their  happy  freedom 
as  they  wandered  through  it  for  six 
months,  then  came  the  story  of  his 
captivity  and  escape.  That  escape 
was  but  just  now  made,  and  with  a 
full  heart  he  dwelt  upon  this  part 
of  his  story.  It  would  not  have  been 
strange  if  Squire  had  now  felt  alarmed  ; 
^  )j  but  his  disposition  was  much  like  his 
brother's  :  he  loved  the  woods,  and  was  afraid  of 
nothing. 

In  a  little  time,  the  four  were  once  more  himting 
freely  through  the  forests.  Signs  of  Indians  were 
to  be  seen  around,  however  ;  possibly  they  were 


DANIEL    BOONE.  43 

the  very  Indians  who  had  captured  them.  In  their 
wanderings,  therefore,  they  kept  together  usually, 
for  self-protection.  One  day,  they  started  out  upon 
a  buffalo-hunt.  As  they  came  upon  a  herd  of  these 
animals,  Stewart  lodged  his  ball  in  one  of  them, 
without  bringing  him  down.  The  buffalo  went 
tearing  through  the  forest ;  and  Daniel  Boone,  with 
Stewart,  forgetful  of  everything  else,  went  chasing 
after  him.  Naturally  enough,  like  excited  men, 
they  had  no  idea  how  far  they  had  travelled,  until 
their  very  weariness  reminded  them  that  it  was  time 
to  turn  back.  Tired  as  he  was,  a  harder  race  was 
now  before  Boone.  They  had  scarcely  started  on 
their  return,  when  a  party  of  Indians  rushed  from 
the  cane-brake,  and  let  fly  their  arrows.  Stewart 
fell  dead  on  the  spot.  Boone  would  have  fired  his 
rifle,  but  he  felt  it  was  useless  :  he  could  kill  but 
one  man ;  his  only  chance  of  escape  was  in  flight. 
With  Indian  yells  and  arrows  close  behind  him,  he 
leaped  forward,  and,  by  tremendous  exertions,  at 
last  distanced  his  pursuers.  When  he  reached  the 
camp,  he  fell,  completely  exhausted. 

The  party,  now  cut  down  to  three,  was  in  a 
little  time  reduced  to  two.  From  some  cause  or 
othei;  they  could  not  tell  what — possibly  the  sad 
story  if  Stewart's  death,  and  the  fear  of  like  trou- 
bles— the  companion  who  had  come  out  with 
Squire  Boone  determined  upon  returning  to  North 


44  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

Carolina.  Very  soon,  therefore,  he  left  them  alone 
in  the  wilderness.* 

It  is  not  strange  that,  being  thus  deserted,  Squire 
Boone  felt  restless  and  dissatisfied  ;  the  wonder  is, 
that  Daniel  was  not  dissatisfied  Ukewise.  But  he 
was  happy  and  contented,  and  often  struggled  to 
call  up  the  same  feelings  in  his  brother.  "  You 
see,"  he  would  often  say,  "  how  little  nature  re- 
quires, to  be  satisfied.  Happiness,  the  companion 
of  content,  is  rather  found  in  our  own  breasts  than 
in  the  enjoyment  of  external  things.  I  firmly  be- 
lieve it  requires  but  a  little  philosophy  to  make  a 
man  happy  in  whatsoever  state  he  is.  This  con- 
sists in  a  full  resignation  to  the  will  of  Providence  ; 
and  a  resigned  soul  finds  pleasure  in  a  path  strewed 
with  briars  and  thorns."  This  was  good  counsel, 
my  young  friends,  and  I  hope  you  will  bear  it  with 
you  through  life.  It  will  serve  to  comfort  you  as 
much  as  it  did  Squire  Boone. 

To  be  idle,  was  to  allow  time  for  this  mel- 
ancholy, and  Daniel  Boone  kept  his  brother 
constantly  busy.     The  Indians,  they  were  certain, 

*  It  is  said  by  some  that  this  man  did  not  thus  leave  them. 
Their  story  is,  that  the  three  started  out  upon  a  hunt ;  that  this 
man  was  separated  from  the  Boones,  and  became  entangled  in 
a  swamp.  The  Boones  searched  for  him,  but  could  not  find 
him.  Afterward,  they  found  fragments  of  his  clothes,  which 
convinced  them  that  the  poor  man  had  been  torn  to  pieces  by 
wolves . 

Daniel  Boone,  however,  tells  a  difierent  story.  He  says  that 
the  man  left  them,  "  and  returned  home  by  himself  j"  and  I 
have  prefeired  his  statement  to  any  other. 


DANIEL    BOONE.  45 

knew  where  their  present  camp  was,  and  therefore 
they  resolved  to  make  another.  After  choosing 
their  spot,  they  employed  themselves  industriously 
in  erecting  another  cabin,  which  might  serve  to 
shelter  them  through  the  coming  winter.  This 
being  finished,  they  went  to  their  old  sport,  wan- 
dering through  the  woods,  admiring  the  country, 
and  bringing  down  now  and  then  a  buffalo  or  a  deer 
with  their  rifles.  At  night,  they  would  return  to 
their  camp,  raise  a  fire,  cook  their  supper,  and  sit 
till  long  after  midnight,  talking  of  their  old  home 
on  the  Yadkin.  Squire  forgot  his  loneliness,  and 
became  quite  satisfied.  In  this  way  time  rolled 
off  until  the  winter  had  passed  away,  and  spring 
appeared.  Strangely  enough,  they  had  been  un- 
disturbed ;  they  had  met  not  even  with  one  Indian. 
They  had  learned  in  the  wilderness  to  dispense 
well  nigh  with  all  comforts  ;  food  and  sleep  were 
all  they  expected.  But  their  powder  and  shot  were 
now  beginning  to  run  low,  and  without  these  they 
could  not  long  procure  food.  It  was  necessary, 
therefore,  to  make  some  arrangement  whereby  they 
might  obtain  a  fresh  supply.  Their  plan  was  soon 
settled  :  Squire  Boone  was  to  go  back  to  North  Car- 
olina, and  return  with  ammunition.  They  supposed 
horses  would  be  valuable,  also,  and  he  was  like- 
wise to  bring  with  him  two  of  these.  Perilous  as 
the  plan  was.  Squire  agreed  to  bear  his  part  in  it^ 
and  Daniel  as  cheerfully  consented  to  his.   Accord- 


46  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

mgly,  on  the  first  day  of  May,  Squire  set  off  for 
the  Yadkin  ;  and,  as  if  nothing  was  to  be  wanting 
to  leave  Daniel  in  perfect  loneliness,  their  only 
dog  followed  Squire  as  he  started. 

Here,  then,  Daniel  Boone  was  left  entirely  alone. 
Here  he  was  a  sort  of  Robinson  Crusoe  in  the  wil- 
derness— with  this  difference,  that  Robinson  was 
shipwrecked,  and  had  no  choice  ;  while  Boone 
chose  the  wilderness  as  his  home.  He  was  now 
completely  the  "man  of  the  woods" — far  away, 
hundreds  of  miles  from  any  white  settlement.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  according  to  his  own  con- 
fession, he  felt  lonely.  His  mind  was  filled  with 
the  remembrance  of  his  wife  and  children,  and  the 
thought  that  he  should  never  see  them  again.  He 
knew,  however,  that  sad  thoughts,  when  indulged 
in,  will  grow  very  rapidly,  and  therefore  dismissed 
them. 

For  safety's  sake  now,  he  changed  his  camp 
every  night,  that  he  might  avoid  the  Indians .  Some- 
times he  slept  in  the  canebrake  ;  sometimes  he 
laid  himself  by  the  side  of  a  stream  ;  sometimes  in 
the  caves  of  the  rocks.  By  day  he  was  surrounded 
by  his  old  companions  the  buffaloes  and  deer,  and  at 
night  was  not  unfrequently  disturbed  by  the  howl- 
ing of  the  wolves.  He  roamed  over  many  a  beau- 
tiful tract  of  country.  Now  he  would  ascend  a 
hill,  and  look  down  upon  the  scene  spread  like  a 
map  before  him  ;  now  he  would  tiace  some  stream 


DANIEL    BOONE.  47 

to  its  source,  or,  following  the  well-tramped  roads 
of  the  buffaloes,  would  find  some  spring  bubbling 
in  the  forest.  In  this  way  he  moved  over  a 
large  part  of  the  country.  At  one  time,  he  struck 
the  Ohio  river,  and  wandered  for  days  on  the  banks 
of  that  noble  stream.  It  is  said,  that  in  his 
rambles,  he  one  day  stood  upon  the  spot  where  the 
city  of  Louisville  now  stands.  He  learned  to  love 
the  woods  more  than  ever.  Long  after  this,  he 
used  to  declare,  that  "  no  crowded  city,  with  all 
its  commerce  and  noble  buildings,  could  give  him 
as  much  pleasure  as  the  beauty  of  Kentucky  at 
that  time  afforded  him." 

Fortunately,  he  met  no  Indians.  At  one  time 
he  came  in  sight  of  a  roving  party,  but  man- 
aged to  escape  from  jthem.  The  mode  in  which 
he  escaped  will  show  you  his  perfect  self-posses- 
sion. He  had  stopped  one  day  to  rest  under  the 
shade  of  a  tree,  when  suddenly  he  spied  the 
party  in  the  distance.  This  was  enough  for  him. 
He  immediately  commenced  his  course  through 
the  forest,  hoping  that  they  had  not  seen  him,  and 
therefore  would  not  pursue.  From  time  to  time  he 
would  look  back  through  the  woods  ;  and  at  length 
became  convinced,  to  his  sorrow,  that  if  they  had 
not  seen  him,  they  had  marked  his  tracks,  and 
were  now  on  his  trail.  He  pushed  on  for  more 
than  two  miles,  trying  in  various  ways  to  break  the 
trail,  and  thus  put  them  out ;  ^  still,  as  he  looked 


^  THE    ADVENTURES    OP 

back,  he  could  see  that  they  were  following  him 
He  was  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do.  A  happy 
thought  now  struck  him.  He  had  just  passed  the 
brow  of  a  small  hill ;  the  heavy  grape-vines  were 
hanging  from  the  trees  all  around  him.  He  seized 
one  of  these,  and,  bracing  himself  against  the  tree 
with  his  feet,  threw  himself  as  far  as  he  could. 
This  broke  the  trail,  and  he  now  kept  directly  on 
from  the  spot  where  he  landed,  in  a  different  direc- 
tion. The  Indians  came  up,  tracking  him  as  far 
as  the  tree  :  were  then  lost,  and  gave  up  the  chase. 
Another  adventure  is  told  of  him  during  his 
lonely  wanderings,  more  perilous  even  than  this. 
One  day  he  heard  a  strange  noise  in  the  woods ; 
he  could  see  nothing,  but  stood  ready  with  his  rifle. 
Presently  an  immense  she-bear  was  seen  approach- 
ing him.  Surrounded  by  her  young  cubs,  she  was 
doubly  fierce.  As  she  came  near,  Boone  levelled 
his  rifle  and  fired.  Unfortunately,  his  steady  eye 
failed  this  time  ;  the  ball  did  not  strike  as  he 
liad  aimed,  and  the  animal  presfeed  forward,  the 
more  enraged.  It  was  impossible  to  load  again : 
the  bear  was  upon  him ;  he  had  only  time  to  draw 
his  hunting-knife  from  liis  belt.  The  bear  laid  her 
paws  on  him,  and  drew  him  toward  her.  The  rifle 
in  his  left  hand  was  a  sort  of  guard,  while  with  his 
right  he  pointed  the  knife  directly  for  the  heart  of 
the  animal.  As  she  grasped  him,  the  knife  entered 
her  body,  and  she  fell  dead. 


DANIEL    BOONE.  4S 

As  the  time  drew  near  for  the  return  (as  he 
hought)  of  his  brother,  Boone  went  back  to  the 
old  camp  where  they  had  lodged  together,  to  meet 
him.  Here  day  after  day  he  kept  his  lookout — • 
day  after  day  he  was  disappointed.  He  began 
now  to  be  very  sad.  He  did  not  doubt  his  broth- 
er's fidelity ;  he  knew  he  would  not  desert  him  ; 
but  there  were  many  dangers  by  the  way,  and 
perhaps  he  had  perished.  Then  he  thought, 
too,  of  his  wife  and  little  ones.  If  that  brother 
had  perished,  he  likewise  must  die  without  seeing 
them.  Without  ammunition  to  procure  food,  or 
defend  himself,  what  could  he  do  ?  He  must  die, 
there  in  the  wilderness.  His  brother  had  been 
absent  now  nearly  three  months  :  surely  it  was 
time  for  his  return.  Another  day  of  disappoint 
ment  was  now  drawing  to  a  close,  as  Boone  sat, 
sick  at  heart,  by  the  door  of  his  cabin.  A  sound 
broke  on  his  ear  ;  he  rose  and  stood  listening,  with 
his  hand  on  the  lock  of  his  rifle.  It  was  the  tread 
of  horses.  The  next  moment  he  saw  his  brother 
through  the  forest  leading  two  horses  heavily  la- 
den. Here  was  abundance  of  ammunition  and 
other  comfort.  The  evening  of  the  27th  of  July 
was  long  after  this  remembered  by  Daniel  Boone 
as  one  of  the  most  joyous  of  his  life. 

A  fire  was  soon  made,  their  supper  cooked,  and 
long  after  midnight  they  sat  talking.     Thousands 
of  questions   were    asked    and   answered,  until, 
5 


50  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

wearied  out,  at  last  they  lay  down  to  sleep.  The 
sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  when  they  waked  in 
the  morning. 

After  breakfast,  Daniel  Boone  proposed  a  new 
plan  to  his  brother.  Much  as  he  loved  the  woods, 
he  felt  that  two  men  could  hardly  be  safe  in  the 
neighborhood  of  so  many  Indians.  Moreover  he 
longed  to  see  his  family  :  the  stories  of  Squire 
had  called  up  fresh  recollections  in  his  heart. 
The  plan  therefore  was,  to  select  a  suitable  spot 
for  their  home,  then  return  to  Carolina  and  bring 
out  his  family.  Squire  readily  assented  to  this  ; 
and  now  they  employed  themselves  for  several 
days  in  hunting  and  laying  in  a  supply  of  provis- 
ions. This  being  done,  they  went  to  the  Cumber- 
land river,  and  wandered  for  some  time  along  the 
stream  without  finding  a  place  to  please  them. 
Roaming  about  now,  they  found  many  new  streams, 
to  which,  as  the  first  discoverers,  they  gave  names. 
Anxious  as  they  were  to  return  to  the  Yadkin, 
they  were  in  no  such  hurry  as  to  neglect  making 
a  full  survey.  The  whole  winter  passed  away 
before  they  pleased  themselves.  At  length  they 
came  upon  the  Kentucky  river.  Here  the  lands 
delighted  them.  On  the  banks  of  this  stream  they 
determined  to  make  their  settlement,  and  now 
(March,  1771)  turned  their  faces  homeward.  As 
he  left  the  chosen  spot,  Boone  says  that  "  he  felt 
\t  was  a  second  paradise,  and  was  resolved,  at  tho 


DANIEL    BOONE.  51 

?"sk  of  his  life  and  fortune,  that  his  family  should 
have  a  home  there." 

As  they  journeyed  eastward  from  the  Kentucky 
river,  they  occasionally  blazed  their  pathway  (as 
huntsmen  say)  that  they  might  find  their  way 
back.  It  was  necessary  thus  to  leave  some  track 
through  the  forest  wilderness,  that  they  might 
again  reach  their  chosen  spot.*  Fortunately  they 
met  with  no  Indians. 

We  hear  of  but  one  adventure  on  their  way 
homeward.  After  travelling  quietly  several  days, 
they  were  one  morning  startled  by  a  noise.  Pres- 
ently a  herd  of  buffaloes  came  rushing  and  tear- 
ing through  the  forest ;  they  seemed  frantic.  The 
cause  of  all  this  was  soon  seen.  A  panther,  seated 
upon  the  back  of  one  of  the  buffaloes,  had  plunged 
his  claws  and  teeth  into  him.  The  blood  was 
streaming  down  his  sides,  and  the  poor  animal, 
struggling  to  shake  him  off,  rushed  into  the  midst 
of  the  herd.  This  frightened  the  rest,  and  they 
went  bellowing  and  dashing  through  the  woods. 
Daniel  Boone  raised  his  rifle,  and  sent  a  ball 
through  the  panther.  He  fell  dead.  Not  far  off 
they  met  a  pack  of  wolves,  following  as  usual  in 

*  This  mode  of  marking  their  track  is  often  practised  by 
huntcrs'in  the  woods.  As  they  pass  through  the  forest,  they 
mark  the  trees  by  cutting  off  a  small  piece  of  the  bark.  This 
enables  them  again  to  find  the  same  pathway,  and  is  commonly 
called  "  blazing  the  track." 


52  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

the  track  of  the  buffaloes.  For  the  fun  of  seeing 
them  scatter,  Squire  now  fired  his  rifle,  and  away 
they  went,  scampering  in  ail  directions. 

In  due  time  they  came  to  the  mountains.  After 
trying  to  ascend  in  various  places,  at  length  they 
found  a  narrow  and  rugged  gap,  through  which 
with  great  difficulty  they  made  their  way.  It  was, 
however,  the  best  pass  they  could  discover,  and 
they  blazed  their  track,  that  they  might  find 
it  again.  In  a  little  time  now,  Daniel  Boone 
was  again  in  his  cabin  on  the  banks  of  the  Yad- 
kin. I  need  hardly  say  there  was  a  joyous  meet- 
ing ;  he  was  once  more  happy  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family.     He  had  been  absent  nearly  two  years. 

Amid  the  joys  of  home,  however,  he  did  not 
forget  his  chosen  spot  in  Kentucky ;  his  heart  was 
filled  with  the  thought  that  his  happy  home  might 
be  happier  there.  As  this  was  to  be  his  final 
move,  it  was  necessary  to  settle  all  his  business 
on  the  Yadkin  ;  and  as  he  had  tried  the  wilder- 
ness, he  felt  that  a  few  trusty  companions  would 
be  invaluable  in  that  new  region.  He  com- 
menced, therefore,  making  what  he  thought  proper 
preparations  for  a  return.  To  beat  up  such  neigh- 
bors as  they  desired,  he  and  Squire  gave  glowing 
accounts  of  the  new  country  ;  the  rich  lands,  the 
forests,  the  streams,  the  flowers,  and  the  game, 
were  all  talked  of.  They  saw  only,  and  conse- 
quently spoke  only,  of  the  bright  side  of  the  pic- 


DANIEL    BOONE.  53 

ture.  But  there  were  numbers  of  people  to  talk 
of  difiloulties  ;  these  spoke  #f  the  folly  of  the 
Boones,  in  thinking  of  making  such  a  country 
their  home,  and  the  madness  of  any  man  who 
should  think  of  following  them  ;  the  country  was 
wild,  and  all  who  settled  there  must  suffer  many 
privations  :  then,  too  (according  to  their  story),  it 
was  afflicted  with  terrible  diseases,  and  they  might 
all  expect  to  die  there,  or,  if  they  escaped  the 
climate,  they  must  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  fierce 
and  cruel  Indians  who  roamed  through  those  for- 
ests ;  the  place  they  declared  was  so  dangerous 
that  it  was  known,  wherever  it  was  known,  as 
"  the  dark  and  bloody  ground."  With  these  sad 
stories  floating  about  continually,  it  is  not  wonder- 
ful that  the  Boones  found  difficulty  in  beating  up 
companions,  and  that  more  than  two  years  passed 
away  before  they  were  ready  for  a  start.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  they  found  that,  while  many  were 
opposed  to  them.,  and  others  wavering  as  to  what 
they  would  do,  there  were  some,  prompted  by  a 
spirit  of  bold  adventure,  ready  to  join  them.  Five 
families  were  willing  to  go  with  them  to  Ken- 
tucky. 

''  Daniel  Boone  now  sold  his  farm,  and  all  things 
being  made  ready,  on  the  25th  of  September,  1 773, 
the  little  company  bade  farewell  to  their  friends 
and  started  for  the  west,  driving  before  them  their 
flocks  and  their  herds.  In  their  route,  not  a  great 
5* 


54  THE    ADVENTURES    OP 

way  from  the  Yadkin,  was  the  settlement  of  Pow» 
ePs  valley.  The  story  of  their  plan  had  spread 
through  the  neighborhood,  and  when  they  reached 
this  spot  they  were  delighted  to  find  that  the  peo- 
ple were  not  so  timid  as  those  on  the  Yadkin ; 
forty  men  here  joined  the  party.  Now  they  trav- 
elled on  in  high  spirits  ;  the  whole  body,  old  and 
young,  numbering  between  seventy  and  eighty 
souls. 

In  a  little  time  they  came  to  the  mountains,  and 
found  the  pathway  blazed  by  the  Boones.  In  less 
than  a  fortnight  they  passed  the  first  ridge  of  the 
Alleganies,  known  as  "  Powel's  range,"  and  were 
now  quietly  descending  the  second,  known  as 
"  Walden's  range,"  when  sorrow  overtook  them. 
They  were  in  a  dark  and  narrow  gap,  when  the 
wild  yell  of  Indians  broke  upon  their  ears.  The 
savages  rushed  into  the  gap  behind  them,  and  let 
fly  their  arrows.  Six  of  the  party  fell  dead,  a 
seventh  was  wounded.  The  men  rallied  around 
the  women  and  children ;  the  first  discharge  of 
their  rifles  scattered  the  savages.  But  the  mis- 
chief was  done  :  the  sudden  attack  of  the  Indians 
was  like  a  flash  of  lightning  ;  they  were  seen 
only  for  an  instant ;  yet,  like  the  lightning,  they 
had  done  their  work  :  there  were  the  dead,  and 
alas  !  among  them  was  the  oldest  son  of  Daniel 
Boone 

The  party,  a  little  time  before  so  happy,  was 


DANIEL    BOONE.  55 

now  in  deep  sorrow.  What  was  to  be  done  1 
The  Indians  had  not  only  killed  their  companionr., 
but  their  flocksi  and  herds  had  all  fled  in  fright, 
and  could  not  be  again  gathered  together.  In 
dismay,  the  greater  part  were  for  retreating  in- 
stantly to  the  nearest  white  settlement ;  this  was 
upon  the  Clinch  river,  forty  miles  behind  them 
The  Boones  begged  them  to  keep  on  their  way — 
not  to  think  of  turning  back ;  but  it  was  all  to  no 
purpose  ;  most  of  them  insisted  on  retreating,  and 
they  at  length  yielded  to  the  general  desire.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  dead  were  decently  buried,  and  in 
great  sadness  they  all  traced  their  way  back  to 
Clinch  river. 

Here  Daniel  Boone  remained  with  his  family 
eight  months.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  was 
requested  by  Governor  Dunmore,  of  Virginia,  to 
go  to  the  falls  of  the  Ohio,  to  serve  as  a  guide  to 
a  party  of  surveyors  who  had  been  sent  there 
some  months  before.  The  western  country  was 
now  beginning  to  attract  attention,  and  the  Indians 
were  becoming  very  hostile  to  the  whites.  Ac- 
cordingly, on  the  6th  of  June,  1774,  he  started 
(with  one  man,  Michael  Stoner),  and  without  any 
accident  reached  the  point  at  which  he  aimed — 
the  spot  where  Louisville  now  stands.  The  ser- 
vice for  the  surveyors  was  promptly  performed, 
and  they  were  enabled  to  complete  their  work, 
while  Boone  was  at  liberty  to  return  to  his  fam- 


56  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

ily.  It  is  remarkable  that  he  made  this  journey  on 
foot,  a  distance  of  eight  hundred  miles,  through  a 
trackless  wilderness,  in  the  short  period  of  sixty- 
two  days. 

He  was  not  allowed  to  remain  quiet  long  ;  soon 
after  his  return,  the  Indians  northwest  of  the  Ohio, 
especially  the  Shawanese,  made  open  war  upon 
the  whites.  Governor  Dunmore  felt  bound  to 
protect  his  countrymen,  and,  among  other  acts 
for  their  defence,  sent  Daniel  Boone,  with  the  title 
of  captain,  to  take  command  of  three  garrisons. 
This  service  was  likewise  well  performed ;  mat- 
ters  were  soon  more  quiet,  the  soldiers  were  dis- 
charged, and  Boone  was  relieved  from  his  post. 

He  had  not  been  a  wanderer  in  the  woods  in 
vain ;  his  fame  had  gone  abroad,  and  his  services 
were  in  the  following  spring  sought  again.  A 
company  of  gentlemen  in  North  Carolina — the 
principal  man  of  whom  was  Colonel  Richard  Hen- 
derson— were  attempting  to  purchase  the  lands  on 
the  south  side  of  the  Kentucky  river,  from  the 
Cherokee  Indians.*  They  had  agreed  to  hold  a 
treaty  with  the  Indians,  at  Wataga,  in  March, 
1775,  to  settle  the  boundaries  of  their  intended 
purchase,  and  they  now  desired  Boone  to  attend 
that  treaty,  and  manage  their  business.  In  com- 
pliance with  their  wish,  he  went  to  Wataga,  and 

•  It  is  said  that  it  was  by  Daniel  Boone's  advice  that  they 
first  thought  of  making  this  purchase. 


DANIEL    BOO.VK.  57 

performed  their  service  so  well,  that  they  gave  him 
further  employment.  He  was  now  requested  to 
mark  out  a  road  from  their  settlement,  through  the 
wilderness,  to  Kentucky  riljr.  This  was  a  work 
of  great  labor.  It  was  necessary  to  make  many 
surveys  to  find  the  best  route,  and  when  the  best 
was  found,  it  was,  much  of  it,  over  mountains 
and  rugged  regions.  With  a  number  of  laborers, 
he  commenced  the  work.  He  met  with  two  at- 
tacks from  the  Indians  by  the  way,  in  which  four 
of  his  men  were  killed,  and  five  wounded.  Un- 
daunted, he  pushed  resolutely  on,  and,  in  the 
month  of  April,  reached  the  Kentucky  river.  To 
guard  themselves  from  the  savages,  they  immedi- 
ately commenced  the  building  of  a  fort  at  a  salt 
lick,  about  sixty  yards  from  the  south  bank  of  the 
stream.  The  Indians  annoyed  them  from  time  to 
time,  while  they  were  thus  engaged,  but  fortu- 
nately killed  but  one  man.  On  the  14th  day  of 
June  the  fort  was  finished,  and  Boone  started 
back  for  his  famil)j;  on  Clinch  river.  As  an  honor 
to  him,  the  party  gave  to  this  first  settlement  in 
the  wilderness  of  Kentucky  the  name  of  Boones- 
borough. 

He  reached  his  family  without  accident,  and,  as 
rapidly  as  he  could,  retraced  his  way  with  them 
through  the  forest.  The  fort  consisted  of  several 
cabins,  surrounded  by  pickets  ten  feet  high,  plant- 
ed firmly  in  the  ground.     In  one  of  these,  Daniel 


58  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

Boone  found  a  shelter  for  his  family.  The  lor  g 
desire  of  his  heart  was  at  last  gratified  :  he  had  a 
home  in  Kentucky.  He  was  the  first  settler  of 
that  region,  and  (afl^e  proudly  said)  his  "  wife 
and  daughter  the  first  white  women  that  ever 
stood  on  the  banks  of  Kentucky  river." 


DANIEL    BOONE. 


69 


CHAPTER    IV. 


T  was  now  the  season  of 
autumn ;  the  trees  had  not  yet 
shed  their  leaves,  and  the  for- 
ests were  still  beautiful.  Mrs. 
Boone  felt  happy  as  she  look- 
ed upon  her  new  home .  Win- 
ter came,  and  glided  rapidly 
and  joyously  away.  With 
their  axes  and  rifles,  the  men  in  the 
settlement  brought  in  constant  and 
ample  supplies  of  fuel  and  game, 
and  around  the  blazing  hearth  of 
Daniel  Boone  there  was  not  one  in  the 
family  who  sighed  for  the  old  home  on 
the  Yadkin.  Boone  naturally  supposed 
-^  that  a  fear  of  the  Indians  would  be  the 
principal  trouble  with  his  wife  ;  and  well  she 
might  dread  them,  remembering  the  loss  of  her 
son  formerly  in  the  pass  of  the  mountains.  For- 
tunately, however,  she  did  not  see  an  Indian 
through  the  season.  But  one  white  man  was 
killed  by  them  during  the  winter,  and  he  lost  his 


60  THE    ADVENTURES    0? 

life  by  unfortunately  wandering  away  from  the 
fort  unarmed.  After  this,  the  other  settlers  were 
more  prudent ;  they  never  went  without  the  pick 
ets  for  fuel  without  taking  their  rifles. 

When  spring  opened,  they  were  soon  very  busy. 
A  small  clearing  without  the  pickets  was  first 
made  for  a  garden-spot.  Mrs.  Boone  and  her 
daughter  brought  out  their  stock  of  garden-seeds, 
and  commenced  cultivating  this,  while  the  men 
went  on  earnestly  in  the  work  of  preparing  for 
their  fields.  They  were  calculating  that  thej 
were  making  their  homes  for  life.  Day  after  day 
the  neighborhood  resounded  with  the  crash  of  fall- 
ing trees,  as  these  hardy  men  levelled  the  forests. 
While  they  were  thus  engaged,  they  were  made 
happy  by  a  new  arrival.  Colonel  Calloway,  an 
old  companion  of  Boone's,  led  by  the  desire  of 
finding  his  old  friend  and  a  new  country,  came  out 
to  the  settlement  this  spring,  and  brought  with  him 
his  two  young  daughters.  Here,  then,  were  com- 
panions for  Boone's  daughter.  The  fathers  were 
happy,  and  the  mother  and  girls  delighted. 

Spring  had  not  passed  away,  however,  before 
they  were  in  sorrow  about  these  children.  When 
the  wild  flowers  began  to  bloom  in  the  woods, 
the  girls  were  in  the  habit  of  strolling  around  the 
fort  and  gathering  them  to  adorn  their  humble 
homes.  This  was  an  innocent  and  pleasant  occu- 
pation ;  it  pleased  the  girls  as  well  as  their  parents. 


DANIEL    BOONE.  61 

They  were  only  cautioned  not  to  wander  far,  for 
fear  of  the  Indians.  This  caution,  it  seems,  was 
forgotten.  Near  the  close  of  a  beautiful  day  in 
July,  they  were  wandering,  as  usual,  and  the 
bright  flowers  tempted  them  to  stroll  thoughtlessly 
onward.  Indians  were  in  ambush ;  they  were 
suddenly  surrounded,  seized,  and  hurried  away,  in 
spite  of  their  screams  for  help.  They  v/ere  car- 
ried by  their  captors  to  the  main  body  of  the  In- 
dian party,  some  miles  distant.  Night  came,  and 
the  girls  did  not  return ;  search  was  made  for 
them,  and  they  were  nowhere  to  be  found.  The 
thought  now  flashed  upon  Boone  that  the  children 
were  prisoners  ;  the  Indians  had  captured  them. 
The  parents  were  well  nigh  frantic  :  possibly  tjie 
girls  were  murdered.  Boone  declared  that  he 
would  recover  his  child,  if  alive,  if  he  lost  his  own 
life  in  the  eflbrt.  The  whole  settlement  was  at 
once  roused  :  every  man  offered  to  start  oflf  with 
the  two  fathers  in  search  of  the  children.  But 
Boone  would  not  have  them  all ;  some  must  re- 
main behind,  to  protect  the  settlement.  Of  the 
whole  number  he  chose  seven  ;  he  and  Calloway 
headed  them ;  and,  in  less  time  than  I  have  been 
telling  the  story,  laden  with  their  knapsacks  and 
rifles,  they  were  off  in  pursuit. 

Which  way  were  they  to  go  ?     It  was  a  long 
time  before  they  could  find  a  track  of  the  party. 
The  wily  Indians,  as  usual,  had  used  all  their  cun- 
6 


62  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

ning  in  hiding  their  footprints  and  breaking  their 
trail.  Covering  their  tracks  with  leaves  ;  walking 
at  right  angles  occasionally  from  the  main  path  ; 
crossing  brooks  by  walking  in  them  for  some  time, 
and  leaving  them  at  a  point  far  from  where  they 
entered  :  all  this  had  been  practised,  and  I  pre- 
sume that  the  fathers  never  would  have  got  on  the 
track  if  the  girls  had  not  been  as  cunning  as  their 
captors.  After  wandering  about  for  some  time, 
they  came  at  length  to  a  brook,  and  waded  along  it 
for  a  great  while  in  search  of  footprints.  They 
looked  faithfully  far  up  and  down  the  stream,  for 
they  knew  the  Indian  stratagem.  Presently  Cal- 
loway leaped  up  for  joy.  "  God  bless  my  child  !" 
cried  he  ;  "  they  have  gone  this  way."  He  had 
picked  up  a  little  piece  of  riband  which  one  of 
his  daughters  had  dropped,  purposely  to  mark  the 
trail.  Now  they  were  on  the  track.  Travelling 
on  as  rapidly  as  they  could,  from  time  to  time  they 
picked  up  shreds  of  handkerchiefs,  or  fragments 
of  their  dresses,  that  the  girls  had  scattered  by 
the  way.  Before  the  next  day  ended,  they  were 
still  more  clearly  on  the  track.  They  reached  a 
soft,  muddy  piece  of  ground,  and  found  all  the 
footprints  of  the  party ;  they  were  now  able  to  tell 
the  riumber  of  the  Indians.  The  close  of  the  next 
day  brought  them  still  nearer  to  the  objects  of 
their  search.  Night  had  set  in  ;  they  were  still 
wandering  on,  when,  upon  reaching  a  small  hill^ 


DANIEL    BOONE.  63 

they  saw  a  camp-fire  in  the  distance.  They  were 
now  delighted  ;  this  surely  was  the  party  that  had 
captured  the  girls.  Everything  was  left  to  the 
management  of  Boone.  He  brought  his  men  as 
near  the  fire  as  he  dared  approach,  and  sheltered 
them  from  observation  under  the  brow  of  a  hill. 
Calloway  and  another  man  were  then  selected 
from  the  group  ;  the  rest  were  told  that  they  might 
go  to  sleep  :  they  were,  however,  to  sleep  on  their 
arms,  ready  to  st^rt  instantly  at  a  given  signal. 
Calloway  was  to  go  with  Boone  ;  the  other  man 
was  stationed  on  the  top  of  thejiill,  to  give  the 
alarm,  if  necessary.  The  two  parents  now  crept 
cautiously  onward  to  a  covert  of  bushes  not  far 
from  the  fire.  Looking  through,  they  saw  fifteen  or 
twenty  Indians  fast  asleep  in  the  camp  ;  but  wkere 
were  the  girls  ?  Crawling  to  another  spot,  they 
pushed  the  bushes  cautiously  aside,  and,  to  their 
great  joy,  saw  in  another  camp  the  daughters 
sleeping  in  each  other's  arms.  Two  Indians 
with  their  tomahawks  guarded  this  camp.  One 
seemed  to  be  asleep.  They  crept  gently  around 
in  the  rear  of  this.  They  were  afraid  to  use 
their  rifles  :  the  report  w^ould  wake  the  other 
camp.  Calloway  was  to  stand  ready  to  shoot  the 
sleeping  Indian  if  he  stirred,  while  Boone  was  tc 
creep  behind  the  other,  seize,  and  strangle  hiin. 
They  were  then  to  hurry  ofT  with  the  children. 
Unfortunately,  they  calculated  wrong:  the  Indian 


64  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

whom  they  supposed  to  be  sleeping  was  wide 
awake,  and,  as  Boone  drew  near,  his  shadow  was 
seen  by  this  man.  He  sprang  up,  and  the  woods 
rang  with  his  yell.  The  other  camp  was  roused  ; 
the  Indians  came  rushing  to  this.  Boone's  first 
impulse  was  to  use  his  rifle,  but  Calloway's  pru- 
dence restrained  him.  Had  he  fired,  it  would  have 
been  certain  destruction  to  parents  and  children. 
They  surrendered  themselves  prisoners,  pleading 
earnestly  at  the  same  time  for  their  captive  daugh- 
ters. The  Indians  bound  them  with  cords,  placed 
guards  over  them,  and  then  retired  to  their  camp. 
The  poor  girls,  roused  by  the  tumult,  now  saw 
their  parents  in  this  pitiable  condition.  Here  they 
were,  likewise  made  captives,  for  their  love  of 
them. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  in  the  Indian  camp 
that  night.  Till  the  dawn  of  the  day  they  were  talk- 
ing of  what  should  be  done  to  the  new  prisoners : 
some  were  for  burning  them  at  the  stake  ;  others 
objected  to  this.  Boone  and  Calloway  were  to  be 
killed,  but  they  were  too  brave  to  be  killed  in  this 
way.  Some  proposed  making  them  run  the  gaunt- 
let. At  last  it  was  decided  (in  pity  for  the  girls,  it 
is  said)  that  the  parents  should  be  killed  in  a  more 
decent  and  quiet  way.  They  were  to  be  toma- 
hawked and  scalped,  and  the  girls  were  still  to  be 
kept  prisoners.  With  the  morning's  light  they 
started  out  to  execute  the  sentence.     That  the 


Dk-NIEL    BOONE.  65 

p0  3r  girls  might  not  see  their  parents  murdered 
the  men  were  led  off  to  the  woods,  and  there  lashed 
to  two  trees.  Two  of  the  savages  stood  before 
them  with  their  tomahawks,  while  the  rest  were 
singing  and  dancing  around  them.  At  length  the 
tomahawks  were  lifted  to  strike  them ;  at  that  instant 
the  crack  of  rifles  was  heard,  and  the  two  Indians 
fell  dead.  Another  and  another  report  was  heard : 
others  fell,  and  the  rest  fled  in  dismay.  Boone's 
companions  had  saved  them.  All  night  long  they 
had  waited  for  the  signal :  none  had  been  given  ; 
they  had  heard  the  Indian  yell ;  they  feared  that 
they  were  taken.  They  had  watched  the  camp 
with  the  greatest  anxiety,  and  now  had  delivered 
them.  They  were  instantly  untied  ;  the  girls  were 
quickly  released,  and  in  the  arms  of  their  parents  ; 
and  they  all  started  joyously  homeward.  Mrs. 
Boone  was  delighted  to  see  them.  The  party  had 
been  so  long  gone,  that  she  feared  her  husband 
and  child  were  alike  lost  to  her  for  ever. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  when  men  found  out  that 
a  settlement  had  been  made  in  Kentucky,  others 
were  soon  ready  to  start  off  for  that  fertile  region. 
Accordingly,  we  find  many  arriving  this  year,  and 
settlirfg  themselves  in  the  country.  Harrod,  Lo- 
gan, Ray,  Wagin,  Bowman,  and  many  other  fear- 
less spirits,  now  threw  themselves,  like  Boone, 
into  the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  and  made  their 
forts,  or  stations,  as  they  were  called.  These 
6* 


66  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

were  just  like  the  home  of  Boone — nothing  tnore 
than  a  few  log  cabins,  surrounded  by  pickets.  In- 
deed, the  country  began  now  to  assume  so  much 
importance  in  the  eyes  of  men,  that  the  Governor 
of  Virginia  thought  proper  to  take  some  notice 
of  it.  When  the  legislature  met,  he  recommended 
that  the  southwestern  part  of  the  county  of  Fin- 
castle — which  meant  all  the  large  tract  of  country 
west  of  the  Alleganies  now  known  as  Kentucky 
— should  be  made  into  a  separate  county,  by  the 
name  of  Kentucky.  The  legislature  thought  it 
well  to  follow  his  advice.  The  new  county  was 
made,  and  had  the  privilege  of  sending  two  mem- 
bers to  the  Virginia  legislature. 

Nor  is  it  surprising  that  the  Indians  began  now 
to  be  more  violent  than  ever  in  their  enmity.  They 
had  been  unwilling  before  that  a  white  man  should 
cross  thieir  path  as  they  roamed  over  their  hunting- 
grounds  ;  but  now,  when  they  saw  clearings  made, 
and  houses  built,  they  felt  that  the  whites  meant 
to  drive  them  for  ever  from  that  region.  Their 
hatred  consequently  increased  now  every  hour. 
Another  circumstance  at  this  time  served  to 
rouse  them  the  more  against  the  settlers.  If 
you  will  think  of  the  period  of  which  I  am 
speaking  (the  year  1776),  perhaps  you  may  guess 
what  it  was.  The  colonists  of  America  in  that 
year,  you  will  remember,  declared  themselves  in- 
dependent of  Great  Britain.     In  the  war  whict 


DANIEL    BOONE,  67 

followed  (known  among  us  always  as  the  Revolu- 
tionary War),  England  struggled  hard  to  subdue 
them  ,  nor  was  she  always  choice  as  to  the  means 
which  she  used  for  the  purpose.  She  did  not  hes- 
itate even  to  rouse  the  red  men  of  the  forests,  and 
give  them  arms  to  fight  the  colonists.  They  were 
not  only  turned  loose  upon  them  with  their  own 
tomahawks  and  scalping-knives,  but  were  well 
supplied  with  British  rifles  and  balls.  All  the  new 
settlements  in  the  land  were  troubled  with  them, 
and  Kentucky  had  to  bear  her  part  of  the  sorrow. 
These  Indians  would  scatter  themselves  in  small 
parties,  and  hang  secretly  for  days  and  nights 
around  the  infant  stations.  Until  one  is  acquaint- 
ed with  Indian  stratagems,  he  can  hardly  tell  how 
cunning  these  people  are.  By  day  they  would 
hide  themselves  in  the  grass,  or  behind  the  stumps 
of  trees,  near  the  pathways  to  the  fields  or  springs 
of  water,  and  it  was  certain  death  to  the  white 
man  who  travelled  that  way.  At  night  they  would 
creep  up  to  the  very  gateway  of  the  pickets,  and 
watch  for  hours  for  a  white  man.  If  any  part  of 
his  person  was  exposed,  he  was  sure  to  catch  a 
rifle-ball.  It  was  impossible  to  discover  them, 
even  when  their  mischief  was  done.  They  would 
lie  in  the  grass  flat  on  their  bellies  for  days,  al- 
most under  the  very  palisades.  Sometimes  an  In- 
dian yell  would  be  heard  near  one  point  of  the  fort, 
startling  all  the  settlers — a  yell  raised  only  to  draw 


68  THE    ADVENTURES    Of 

them  all  in  one  direction,  while  the  Indians  did 
their  mischief  in  another  In  this  sneaking  mode 
of  warfare,  men,  women,  and  children,  were  killed 
in  many  places  ;  and  not  unfrequently  whole  droves 
of  cattle  were  cut  off. 

At  length,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  settlers,  the 
Indians  began  to  show  themselves  more  boldly : 
for  anything  was  better  than  these  secret  ambushes 
of  the  savages ;  an  open  enemy  is  not  so  much  to 
be  dreaded  as  a  secret  one.  Boonesborough  and 
Harrodsburgh  (a  settlement  made  by  James  Har- 
rod,  a  bold  adventurer  from  the  banks  of  the  Mo- 
nongahela)  were  now  the  principal  stations.  Tow- 
ard these,  new  emigrants  were  from  time  to  time 
moving,  and  against  these  stations,  as  being  the 
strongest,  the  Indians  felt  the  greatest  hatred,  and 
directed  their  principal  attacks.  Early  in  the 
spring  of  1777,  a  party  was  moving  toward  Har- 
rodsburgh :  fortunately,  the  Indians  attacked  them  ; 
for,  though  two  whites  were  killed,  the  attack 
probably  saved  the  settlement.  It  was  only  four 
miles  from  the  place,  and  the  Indians  were  now 
on  their  way  there.  One  young  man  escaped  in 
the  midst  of  the  fight  to  give  the  alarm  at  Harrods- 
burgh. The  station  was  instantly  put  in  a  state 
of  defence.  Ere  long,  the  Indians  appeared.  A 
brisk  firing  at  once  commenced  on  both  sides  ;  the 
savages  saw  one  of  their  men  fall,  and  finding  that 
.hey  were  not  likely  to  gain  any  advantage,  soon 


'  DANIEL    BOONE.  69 

scattered  for  the  woods.     The  whites  lost  one  man 
also,  and  three  were  slightly  wounded. 

On  the  1 5th  of  April,  a  party  of  one  hundred 
savages  appeared  boldly  before  Boonesborough. 
Every  man  of  them  was  armed  with  his  gun,  as 
well  as  bow  and  arrows.  Boone,  however,  was 
prepared  for  them,  and  gave  them  a  warm  recep 
tion — so  warm,  that  they  soon  gladly  retreated 
How  many  of  their  men  were  killed  it  was  im- 
possible to  tell,  for  they  dragged  away  their  dead 
with  them.  In  the  fort  one  man  was  killed,  and 
four  were  badly  wounded. 

Their  loss  this  time  only  served  to  make  them 
more  revengeful.  In  July  following  they  again 
came  against  Boonesborough,  resolved  upon  ven- 
geance. They  numbered  this  time  more  than  two 
hundred.  To  prevent  any  of  the  white  settlements 
from  sending  aid  to  Boonesborough,  they  had  sent 
off  small  parties  to  molest  them,  and  keep  them 
busy.  The  savages  now  commenced  their  attack, 
and  for  two  days  a  constant  firing  was  kept  up. 
At  last,  finding  their  efforts  again  idle,  they  raised 
a  loud  yell,  and  returned  to  the  forests.  The 
whites  could  now  count  their  slain  and  wounded 
as  they  dragged  them  off :  seven  were  killed,  and 
miitbers  wounded,  while  in  the  fort  only  one  white 
man  was  slain.  In  spite  of  their  numbers  and 
their  cunning,  they  did  but  little  harm  :  for  Boone 
was  never  found  sleeping  ;  he  knew  that  Indians 


70  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

were  his  neighbors,  and  he  was  always  ready  for 
them.  After  this,  they  learned  to  dread  him  more 
than  ever.  He  now  went  by  the  name  of  the 
"  Great  Long  Knife:' 

Attacks  of  this  kind  were  made  from  time  to 
time  openly  against  the  settlements,  but  especially 
against  these  two  principal  stations.  They  all 
ended  very  much  in  the  same  way,  and  it  w^ould 
only  weary  you  if  I  should  attempt  to  speak  of 
them.  It  is  enough  for  you  to  know  that  the 
whites  were  always  on  the  lookout,  and  that 
Boone  was  regarded  as  their  principal  leader  and 
protector.  We  will  pass  on,  therefore,  to  some- 
thing more  interesting. 

I  have  already  stated  that  the  stations  of  these 
settlers  were  usually  built,  for  comfort's  sake,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  salt  licks  or  springs  ;  and  near 
such  a  lick,  as  you  will  remember,  Boonesborough 
stood.  The  supply  of  salt,  however,  was  not  suf- 
ficient ;  new  settlers  were  often  arriving,  and  it 
became  necessary  to  seek  a  place  which  would 
afford  more  of  that  article.  Boone  w^as  the  father 
of  the  settlement,  and  he  undertook  to  find  it. 
Raving  selected  thirty  men  as  his  companions,  on 
the  1st  of  January,  1778,  he  started  for  the  Blue 
Licks,  on  Licking  river — a  stream,  as  you  know, 
emptying  itself  into  the  Ohio  opposite  where  Cin- 
cinnati now  stands.  Upon  reaching  this  spot,  the 
thirty  men  were  soon  very  busy  in  making  salt 


DANIEL    BOONE.  71 


Boone,  having  no  taste  for  the  work,  sauntered  off 
to  employ  himself  in  shooting  game  for  the  com- 
pany.    He  had  wandered  some  distance  from  the 
river  one  day,  when  suddenly  he  came  upon  two 
Indians  armed  with  muskets.    It  was  impossible  for 
him  to  retreat,  and  the  chances  were  against  him 
if  he  stood.     His  usual  coolness  did  not  forsake 
him  ;  he  instantly  jumped  behind  a  tree.     As  the 
Indians  came  within  gun-shot,  he  exposed  himself 
on  the  side  of  the  tree :  one  savage  immediately 
fired,  and  Boone  dodged  the  ball.     One  shot  was 
thus  thrown  away,  and  this  was  just  what  he  de- 
sired.   Exposing  himself  immediately  in  precisely 
the  same  way,  the  other  musket  was  discharged 
by  the  other  Indian,  to  as  little  purpose.    He  now 
stepped  boldly  out ;  the  Indians  were  trying  hard 
to  load  again  ;  he  raised  his  rifle,  and  one  savage 
fell  dead.     He  was  now  on  equal  terms  with  the 
other.     Drawing  his  hunting-knife,  he  leaped  for- 
ward and  placed  his  foot  upon  the  body  of  the  dead 
Indian  ;  the  other  raised  his  tomahawk  to  strike 
but  Boone,  with  his  rifle  in  his  left  hand,  warded 
off  the  blow,  while  with  his  right  he  plunged  his 
knife  into  the  heart  of  the  savage.     His  two  foes 
lay  dead  before  him.     If  you  should  ever  visit 
Washington  city,  you  will  see  a  memorial  of  this 
deed.     The  act  is  in  sculpture,  over  the  southern 
door  of  the  rotundo  of  the  capitol. 

After  this  he  continued  his  hunting  excursions 


72  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

as  usual,  for  the  benefit  of  his  party  ;  but  he  was 
not  so  fortunate  the  next  time  he  met  with  Indians. 
On  the  7th  of  February,  as  he  was  roaming  through 
the  woods,  he  saw  a  party  of  one  hundred  savages 
on  their  way  to  attack  Boonesborough.  His  onl> 
chance  for  escape  now  was  to  run.  He  instantly 
fled,  but  the  swiftest  warriors  gave  chase,  and  be- 
fore a  great  while  he  was  overtaken  and  made  a 
prisoner.  He  was,  of  all  men,  the  one  whom  they 
desired  to  take  ;  they  could  now  gain,  as  they 
thought,  some  information  about  Boonesborough. 
They  now  carried  him  back  to  the  Blue  Licks. 
As  they  drew  near,  Boone,  knowing  that  it  was 
idle  to  resist,  made  signs  to  the  salt-makers  to  sur- 
render themselves.  This  they  did,  and  thus  the 
savages  soon  had  in  their  possession  twenty-eight 
captives.  Fortunately  for  themselves,  three  of  the 
men  had  started  homeward  with  a  supply  of  salt, 
and  thus  escaped. 

Now  was  the  time  for  the  savages  to  have  at- 
tacked Boonesborough  ;  for,  with  the  loss  of  so 
many  men,  and  Boone  their  leader,  we  may  readily 
suppose  that  the  station  might  have  surrendered. 
Flushed,  however,  with  the  capture  of  their  pris- 
oners, they  seem  not  to  have  thought  of  it  any 
longer. 

The  prisoners  were  marched  immediately  to  Old 
Chilicothe,  the  principal  Indian  town  on  the  Little 
Miami,  where  they  arrived  on  the  18th.     There 


DANIEL    BOONE.  73 

was  great  rejoicing  over  them  when  they  reached 
this  old  settlement  of  the  savages,  though  Boone 
says  they  were  "  treated  as  kindly  as  prisoners 
could  expect,"  Early  in  the  next  month  Boone 
with  ten  of  his  men  was  marched  off  to  Detroit 
by  forty  Indians.  Here  Governor  Hamilton,  the 
British  commander  of  that  post,  treated  them  with 
much  kindness.  The  ten  men  were  soon  deliv- 
ered up  for  a  small  ransom.  But  when  the 
Governor  offered  them  one  hundred  pounds  to 
give  up  Boone,  that  he  might  allow  him  to  return 
home,  they  refused  to  part  with  him  ;  they  looked 
upon  him  as  too  dangerous  an  enemy  to  be  allowed 
to  go  free  upon  any  terms.  Several  English  gen- 
tlemen were  moved  with  pity  when  they  saw  Boone 
thus  a  helpless  prisoner,  and  offered  to  supply  his 
wants.  He  thanked  them  for  their  feeling,  but  re- 
fused to  receive  any  aid,  stating  that  he  never  ex- 
pected to  be  able  to  return  their  kindness,  and 
iherefore  was  unwilling  to  receive  it.  The  truth 
was,  he  was  not  disposed  to  receive  assistance 
from  the  enemies  of  his  country. 

With  no  other  prisoner  than  Boone,  the  party 
now  started  again  for  Old  Chilicothe.  As  they 
drew  near,  after  a  very  fatiguing  march,  Boone 
thought  he  understood  why  they  had  refused  to 
part  with  him.  Before  they  entered  the  village, 
they  shaved  his  Lead,  painted  his  face,  and  dressed 
him  like  themselves  ;  they  then  placed  in  his 
7 


74  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

hands  a  long  white  staff,  ornamented  with  deers' 
tails.  The  chief  of  the  party  then  raised  a  yell, 
and  all  the  warriors  from  the  village  answered  it, 
and  soon  made  their  appearance.  Four  young 
warriors  commenced  singing  as  they  came  toward 
him.  The  two  first,  each  bearing  a  calumet,  took 
him  by  the  arm.s  and  marched  him  to  a  cabin  in 
the  village  ;  here  he  was  to  remain  until  his  fate 
was  made  known  to  him.  Of  all  strange  customs 
of  the  Indians  (and  he  had  seen  many  of  them), 
this  was  the  strangest  to  him.  It  is  not  wonder- 
ful that  he  thought  he  was  now  to  die. 

Yet  this  was  a  common  custom  (it  is  said)  among 
the  Shawanese,  who  inhabited  this  village.  Pris- 
oners were  often  thus  carried  to  some  cabin,  and 
then  the  Indian  living  in  the  cabin  decided  what 
should  be  done — whether  the  prisoner  should  die, 
or  be  adopted  into  the  tribe.  It  happened  that  in 
this  cabin  lived  an  old  Indian  \voman,  who  had 
lately  lost  a  son  in  battle.  She,  of  course,  was  to 
decide  Boone's  fate.  She  looked  at  him  earnestly, 
admired  his  noble  bearing  and  cheerful  face,  and 
at  length  declared  that  he  should  live.  He  should 
be  her  son,  she  said ;  he  should  be  to  her  the  son 
whom  she  had  lost.  The  young  warriors  instantly 
announced  to  him  his  fate,  and  the  fact  was  soon 
proclaimed  through  the  village.  Food  was  brought 
out  and  set  before  him  ;  and  every  effort,  which  In- 
dian love  could  think  of,  was  used  to  make  him 


DANIEL    LOONE.  75 

happy  He  was  fairly  one  of  the  tribe  ;  and  the 
old  woman  who  was  to  be  his  mother  was  espe- 
cially delighted. 

He  was  now  as  free  as  the  rest ;  his  only  sor- 
row was  that  he  had  to  live  among  them.  He 
knew,  too,  that  if  he  should  be  caught  trying  to 
make  his  escape,  it  would  be  certain  death  to  him. 
He  pretended,  therefore,  to  be  cheerful  and  hap- 
py ;  and  fortunately  his  old  habits  enabled  him  to 
play  his  part  well.  Like  them,  he  was  a  man  of 
the  woods,  and  ars  fond  of  hunting  as  any  of  them. 
They  all  soon  became  attached  to  him,  and  treated 
him  with  the  utmost  confidence. 

Sometimes  large  parties  would  go  out  to  try 
their  skill  at  their  sports  of  racing  and  shooting  at 
a  mark.  Boone  was  always  with  them  ;  he  knew, 
however,  that  in  trials  of  this  kind  the  Indians 
were  always  jealous  if  they  were  beaten,  and 
therefore  he  had  to  act  very  prudently.  At  racing, 
they  could  excel  him  ;  but  at  shooting,  he  was 
more  than  a  match  for  any  of  them.  Still,  when 
the  target  was  set  up,  he  was  always  certain  to  be 
beaten.  If  he  shot  too  well,  they  would  be  jeal- 
ous and  angry ;  if  he  shot  badly,  they  would  hold 
him  in  contempt :  and  therefore  he  would  manage 
to  make  good  shots,  and  yet  never  be  the  success- 
ful man.  He  knew  too  much  of  Indians  not  to 
conduct  himself  properly. 

Sometimes  they  would  start  out  upon  hunting 


76  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

parties.  Here  Boone  was  at  home  ;  there  was  no 
jealousy  when  he  brought  down  a  buffalo  or  a  deer 
with  his  rifle-ball.  He  might  do  his  best ;  they 
were  true  hunters  themselves,  and  were  delighted 
with  every  successful  shot.  Returning  to  the  vil- 
lage, Boone  would  always  visit  the  Shawanese 
chief,  and  present  him  a  portion  of  his  game.  By 
this  kindness  and  civility  he  completely  won  the 
heart  of  the  chief,  and  was  not  unfrequently  consult- 
ed by  him  on  important  matters.  Thus  he  passed 
his  time,  joining  in  all  their  modes  of  living ;  he 
was  beloved  by  the  old  woman,  the  chief,  and  all 
the  tribe  :  and  none  suspected  that  he  was  not 
contented  and  happy. 

On  the  1st  of  June,  a  large  party  was  starting 
from  the  village  for  the  salt-licks  on  the  Scioto,  to 
make  salt.  Boone  pretended  to  be  indifferent 
whether  he  went  or  not.  The  truth  was,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  very  anxious  to  go,  for  he  thought 
it  would  afford  a  fine  opportunity  for  him  to  escape. 
He  seemed  so  indifferent  about  the  matter,  that  the 
party  urged  him  to  accompany  them,  and  off  he 
started.  For  ten  days  most  of  them  were  busy 
making  salt,  while  Boone  and  two  or  three  of  the 
best  marksmen  hunted  for  the  benefit  of  the  rest. 
He  watched  his  chance  for  escape,  but  none  oc- 
curred ;  he  was  closely  observed  ,  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  attempt  it.  To  his  great  sorrow,  he 
was  forced  to  return  home  with  the  salt-makers. 


DANIEL    BOONE. 


77 


They  had  scarcely  got  back,  when  the  whole 
village  was  summoned  to  the  council-hcuse,  to  at- 
teiid^a  council  of  war.     Boone,  as  belonging  to 
one  of  the  principal  families,  went  to  this  council. 
Here  he  met  four  hundred  and  fifty  armed  Indians, 
all  gayly  painted.     One  of  the  oldest  warriors  then 
struck  a  large  drum,  and  marched  with  the  war- 
standard  three  times  round  the  council-house  :  this 
was  the  sure  signal  that  they  were  about  to  make 
war  upon  some  enemy.     But  who  was  the  enemy  ? 
What  was  Boone's  surprise  when  it  was  announced 
that  they  meant  to  attack  Boonesborough  !    He  re- 
solved now  that  he  would  escape,  even  at  every 
hazard,  and  alarm  the  settlement.     Still  his  pru- 
dence did  not  forsake  him. 

The  old  warriors  at  once  commenced  gathering 
together  a  supply  of  parched  corn,  and  beating  up 
more  recruits  for  the  expedition.  All  the  new 
men  (Boone  among  the  rest,' for  he  was  forced  to 
join  them)  were  then  marched  off  to  the  "  winter- 
house"  to  drink  the  war-drink.  This  was  a  mix- 
ture of  water  and  bitter  herbs  and  roots,  and  was 
to  be  drank  steadily  for  three  days,  during  which 
time  no  man  was  to  eat  a  morsel.  Even  if  a  deer 
or  buffalo  passed  by,  no  man  was  to  kill  it ;  the  fast 
must  be  kept.  In  fact,  no  man  was  allowed  even 
to  sit  down,  or  rest  himself  by  leaning  against  a 
tree.  This  was  done  by  the  old  men  to  purify 
the  young  warriors,  as  they  said,  and  to  gam  the 
7* 


78  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

favor  of  the  Great  Spirit.  All  this  was  a  common 
practice  with  the  tribe  before  they  went  to  battle ; 
and  the  more  strictly  the  fast  was  kept,  the  greater 
(as  they  supposed)  were  the  chances  of  success. 
During  these  three  days,  Boone,  like  the  rest,  kept 
the  fast,  drank  the  war-drink,  and  did  not  even 
leave  the  "  medicine-ground." 

The  fast  being  over,  they  fired  their  •  guns^ 
yelled,  danced,  and  sang ;  and  in  the  midst  of  this 
noise  the  march  commenced.  The  leading  war- 
chief,  bearing  the  medicine-bag,  or  budget  (as  it 
was  called),  went  before  ;  the  rest  followed  in 
single  file.  Nothing  but  shouting  and  yelling,  and 
the  noise  of  guns,  was  heard,  as  they  passed 
through  the  village.  When  they  reached  the 
woods,  all  the  noise  ceased  ;  they  were  fairly  on 
their  march,  and  that  march  was  to  be  made  after 
the  Indian  fashion,  in  dead  silence.  For  several 
days  this  dead  march  was  kept  up,  Boone  looking 
every  hour  for  his  chance  of  escape.  At  length, 
early  one  morning,  a  deer  dashed  by  the  line. 
Boone  leaped  eagerly  after  him,  and  started  in 
pursuit.  No  sooner  was  he  out  of  sight  of  the 
Indians,  than  he  pressed  for  Boonesborough.  He 
knew  they  would  give  chase,  and  therefore  hs 
doubled  his  track,  waded  in  streams,  and  did  every- 
thing that  he  could  to  throw  them  off  his  trail. 
Every  sound  startled  him ;  he  thought  the  Indians 
were  behind  him.     With  no  food  but  roots  and 


D»vrv,r     J^ooNE  "79 

berries,  and  scarcely  time  to  devour  these,  he 
pushed  through  swamps  and  thickets  for  his  old 
home.  Now  or  never  was  his  chance  for  liberty, 
and  as  such  he  used  it.  At  length,  after  wan- 
dering nearly  two  hundred  miles,  on  the  fourth  day 
he  reached  Boonesborouah  in  safety. 


hG 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF 


CHAPTER    V. 


EFORE  we  go  on,  let  me 
tell  you  of  some  of  the  cu- 
rious customs  which  Boone 
noticed  among  the  Indians, 
during  his  captivity.  He  had 
a  fine  opportunity  for  observa- 
tion, and  I  think  these  strange 
customs  will  interest  you. 
is  not  wonderful  that  Indian 
^Lmen  and  women  are  so  hardy  ;  they 
§^  are  trained  to  it  from  their  youth : 
I  and  Boone  tells  us  how  they  are 
trained.  When  a  child  is  only  eight 
years  old,  this  training  commences  ;  he 
is  then  made  to  fast  frequently  half  a 
■••  day ;  when  he  is  twelve,  he  is  made  to 
fast  a  whole  day.  During  the  time  of  this  fast, 
the  child  is  left  alone,  and  his  face  is  always 
blacked.  This  mode  of  hardening  them  is  kept 
up  with  girls  until  they  are  fourteen — with  boys 
until  they  are  eighteen.     At  length,  when  a  boy 


DANIEL    BOONE.  81 

has  reached  the  age  of  eighteen,  his  parents  tell 
him  that  his  education  is  completed,  and  that  he  is 
old  enough  to  be  a  man.  His  face  is  now  to  be 
blacked  for  the  last  time.  He  is  taken  to  a  soli- 
tary cabin  far  away  from  the  village  ;  his  face  is 
blacked,  and  then  his  father  makes  to  him  a 
speech  of  this  kind  :  "  My  son,  the  Great  Spirit 
has  allowed  you  to  live  to  see  this  day.  We  have 
all  noticed  your  conduct  since  I  first  began  to 
black  your  face.  All  people  will  understand  wheth- 
er you  have  followed  your  father's  advice,  and 
they  will  treat  you  accordingly.  You  must  now 
remain  here  until  I  come  after  you."  The  lad  is 
then  left  alone.  His  father  then  goes  off  hunting, 
as  though  nothing  had  happened,  and  leaves  his 
boy  to  bear  his  hunger  as  long  it  is  possible  for 
him  to  starve  and  live.  At  length  he  prepares  a 
great  feast,  gathers  his  friends  together,  and  then 
returns.  The  lad  is  then  brought  home,  his  face 
is  washed  in  cold  water,  his  hair  is  shaved,  leav- 
ing nothing  but  the  scalp-lock  ;  they  all  commence 
eating,  but  the  food  of  the  lad  is  placed  before  him 
in  a  separate  dish.  This  being  over,  a  looking- 
glass  and  a  bag  of  paint  are  then  presented  to  him. 
Then  they  all  praise  him  for  his  firmness,  and  tell 
him  that  he  is  a  man.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  a 
boy  is  hardly  ever  known  to  break  his  fast  when 
he  is  blacked  this  way  for  the  last  time.  It  is 
looked  upon  as  something  base,  and  they  have  a 


82  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

dread  that  the  Great  Spirit  will  punish  them  if 
they  are  disobedient  to  their  parents. 

Another  curious  habit  which  surprised  Boone 
was  that  of  continually  changing  names.  A  white 
man  carries  the  same  name  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grs^ve,  but  among  these  people  it  was  very  differ- 
ent. Their  principal  arms,  as  you  know,  are  the 
tomahawk  and  scalping-knife,  and  he  who  can 
take  the  greatest  number  of  scalps  is  the  greatest 
man.  From  time  to  time,  as  warriors  would  re 
turn  from  an  attack  upon  some  enemy,  these  new 
names  would  begin  to  be  known.  Each  man 
would  count  the  number  of  scalps  he  had  taken, 
and  a  certain  number  entitled  him  to  a  new  name, 
in  token  of  his  bravery.  It  is  not  wonderful  that 
they  were  revengeful,  when  they  were  stimulated 
by  this  sort  of  ambition.  Besides  this,  they  be- 
lieved that  he  who  took  the  scalp  of  a  brave  man 
received  at  once  all  his  courage  and  other  good 
qualities  ;  and  this  made  them  more  eager  in  their 
thirst  for  scalps.  In  this  way,  names  of  warriors 
were  sometimes  changed  three  or  four  times  in  a 
year. 

Marriages  in  this  tribe  were  conducted  very  de- 
cently. When  a  young  warrior  desired  to  marry, 
he  assembled  all  his  friends,  and  named  the  wo- 
man whom  he  wished  for  his  wife.  His  relations 
then  received  his  present,  and  took  it  to  the  parents 
of  the  young  woman.     If  they  were  pleased  with 


DANIEL    BOONE.  83 

the  proposal,  they  would  dress  the  young  woman 
in  her  gayest  clothes,  and  take  her,  with  bundles 
of  presents,  to  the  friends  of  the  warrior ;  then,  if 
she  pleased,  she  was  to  be  married.  There  was 
no  compulsion  in  the  matter.  If  she  was  not  sat- 
isfied, she  had  only  to  return  his  present  to  the 
young  warrior,  and  this  was  considered  a  refusal. 

Their  mode  of  burying  their  dead  was  very 
much  like  that  of  all  the  Indians.  The  dead  body 
was  sometimes  placed  in  a  pen  made  of  sticks  and 
covered  over  with  bark  ;  sometimes  it  was  placed 
in  a  grave,  and  covered  first  with  bark,  and  then 
with  dirt ;  and  sometimes,  especially  in  the  case 
of  the  young,  it  was  placed  in  a  rud»  coffin,  and 
suspended  from  the  top  of  a  tree.  This  last  was 
a  common  mode  of  infant  burial,  and  the  mother 
of  the  child  would  often  be  found,  long  after, 
standing  under  the  tree,  and  singing  songs  to  her 
babe. 

Boone  witnessed,  too,  the  mode  in  which  war- 
parties  start  off  for  war.  The  budget,  or  medicine- 
bag,  is  first  made  up.  This  bag  contains  some- 
thing belonging  to  each  man  of  the  party — some- 
thing usually  representing  some  animal,  such  as 
the  skin  of  a  snake,  the  tail  of  a  buffalo,  the  horns 
of  a  buck,  or  the  feathers  of  a  bird.  It  is  always 
regarded  as  a  very  sacred  thing.  The  leader  of 
the  party  goes  before  with  this ;  the  rest  follow  in 
single   file.     When   they  come    to   a  stand,  the 


84  THE    ADVEiVTURES    OF      ' 

budget  is  laid  down  in  front,  and  no  man  may 
pass  it  without  permission.  To  keep  their  thoughts 
upon  the  enterprise  in  which  they  are  engaged,  no 
man  is  allowed  to  talk  of  women  or  his  home.  At 
night,  when  they  encamp,  the  heart  of  whatever 
animal  has  been  killed  during  the  day  is  cut  into 
small  pieces  and  then  burnt.  During  the  burning 
no  man  is  allowed  to  step  across  the  fire,  but  must 
always  walk  around  it  in  the  direction  of  the  sun. 
When  they  spy  the  enemy,  and  the  attack  is  to  be 
made,  the  war-budget  is  opened.  Each  man  takes 
out  his  budget,  or  totem,  and  fastens  it  to  his 
body.  After  the  fight,  each  man  again  returns  his 
totem  to  the'  leader.  They  are  all  again  tied  up, 
and  given  to  the  man  who  has  taken  the  first 
scalp.  He  then  leads  the  party  in  triumph  home. 
Boone  had  not  long  been  a  prisoner  among  them 
when  a  successful  war-party  returned  home  and 
celebrated  their  victory.  When  the  party  came 
within  a  day's  march  of  the  village,  a  messenger 
was  sent  in  to  tell  of  their  success.  An  order 
was  instantly  issued  that  every  cabin  should  be 
swept  clean,  and  the  women  as  quickly  commenced 
the  work.  When  they  had  finished,  the  cabins 
were  all  inspected,  to  see  if  they  were  in  proper 
order.  Next  day  the  party  approached  the  village. 
They  were  all  frightfully  painted,  and  each  man 
had  a  bunch  of  white  feathers  on  his  head.  They 
were  marching  in  single  file,  the  chief  of  the  party 


DANIEL    BOONE.  85 

leading  the  way,  bearing  in  one  hand  a  branch  of 
cedar,  laden  with  the  scalps  they  had  taken,  and 
all  chanting  their  war-song.  As  they  entered  the 
village,  the  chief  led  the  way  to  the  war-pole, 
which  stood  in  front  of  the  council-house.  In  this 
house  the  council-fire  was  then  burning.  The 
waiter,  or  Etissu  of  the  leader,  then  fixed  two 
blocks  of  wood  near  the  war-pole,  and  placed  up- 
on them  a  kind  of  ark,  which  was  regarded  by 
them  as  one  of  their  most  sacred  things.  The 
chief  now  ordered  that  all  should  sit  down.  He 
then  inquired  whether  his  cabin  was  prepared,  and 
everything  made  ready,  according  to  the  custom 
of  his  fathers.  They  then  rose  up  and  commenced 
the  war-whoop,  as  they  marched  round  the  war- 
pole.  The  ark  was  then  taken  and  carried  with 
great  solemnity  into  the  council-house,  and  here 
the  whole  party  remained  three  days  and  nights, 
separate  from  the  rest  of  the  people.  Their  first 
business  now  was  to  wash  themselves  clean,  and 
sprinkle  themselves  with  a  mixture  of  bitter  herbs. 
While  they  were  thus  in  the  house,  all  their  fe- 
male relatives,  after  having  bathed  and  dressed 
themselves  in  their  finest  clothes,  placed  them- 
selves in  two  lines  facing  each  other  on  each  side 
of  the  door.  Here  they  continued  singing  a  slow  mo 
notonous  song  all  day  and  night ;  the  song  was  kept 
up  steadily  for  one  minute,  with  intervals  of  ten 
minutes  of  dead  silence  between.  About  once  in 
8 


86  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

three  hours  the  chief  would  march  out  at  the  head  of 
his  warriors,  raise  the  war-whoop,  and  pass  around 
the  war-pole,  bearing  his  branch  of  cedar.  This 
was  all  that  was  done  for  the  whole  three  days  and 
nights.  At  length  the  purification  was  ended,  and 
upon  each  of  their  cabins  was  placed  a  twig  of  the 
cedar  wath  a  fragment  of  the  scalps  fastened  to  it, 
to  satisfy  the  ghosts  of  their  departed  friends.  All 
were  now  quiet  as  usual,  except  the  leader  of  the 
party  and  his  waiter,  who  kept  up  the  purification 
three  days  and  nights  longer.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, the  budget  was  hung  up  before  his  door  for 
thirty  or  forty  days,  and  from  time  to  time  Indians 
of  the  party  would  be  seen  singing  and  dancing 
before  it.  When  Boone  asked  the  meaning  of  all 
this  strange  ceremony,  they  answered  him  by  a 
word  which  he  says  meant  holy. 

As  this  party  had  brought  in  no  prisoners,  he 
did  not  now  witness  their  horrible  mode  of  torture. 
Before  he  left  them,  however,  he  saw  enough  of 
their  awful  cruelty  in  this  way.  Sometimes  the 
poor  prisoner  would  be  tied  to  a  stake,  a  pile  of 
green  wood  placed  around  him,  fire  applied,  and 
the  poor  wretch  left  to  his  horrible  fate,  while, 
amid  shouts  and  yells,  the  Indians  departed. 
Sometimes  he  would  be  foreed  to  run  the  gauntlet 
between  two  rows  of  Indians,  each  one  striking 
at  him  with  a  club  until  he  fell  dead.  Others 
would  be  fastened  between  two  stakes,  their  arms 


DANIEL    BOONE.  87 

and  legs  stretched  to  eachjof  them,  and  then  quick- 
ly burnt  by  a  blazing  fire.  A  common  mode  was 
to  pinion  the  arms  of  the  prisoner,  and  then  tie  one 
end  of  a  grape-vine  around  his  neck,  while  the 
other  was  fastened  to  the  stake.  A  fire  was  then 
kindled,  and  the  poor  wretch  would  walk  the  circle : 
this  gave  the  savages  the  comfort  of  seeing  the 
poor  creature  literally  roasting,  while  his  agony 
was  prolonged.  Perhaps  this  was  the  most  popu- 
lar mode,  too,  because  all  the  women  and  children 
could  join  in  it.  They  were  there,  with  their  bun- 
dles of  dry  sticks,  to  keep  the  fire  blazing,  and 
their  long"  switches,  to  beat  the  prisoner.  Fearful 
that  their  victim  might  die  too  soon,  and  thus  es- 
cape their  cruelty,  the  women  would  knead  cakes 
of  clay  and  put  them  on  the  scull  of  the  poor  suf- 
ferer, that  the  fire  might  not  reach  his  brain  and 
instantly  kill  him.  As  the  poor  frantic  wretch 
would  run  round  the  circle,  they  would  yell,  dance, 
and  sing,  and  beat  him  with  their  switches,  until 
he  fell  exhausted.  At  other  times,  a  poor  prisoner 
would  be  tied,  and  then  scalding  water  would  be 
poured  upon  him  from  time  to  time  till  he  died. 
It  Avas  amazing,  too,  to  see  how  the  warriors 
would  sometimes  bear  these  tortures.  Tied  to  the 
stake,  they  would  chant  their  war-songs,  threaten 
their  captors  with  the  awful  vengeance  of  their 
tribe,  boast  of  how  many  of  their  nation  they  had 
scalped,  and  tell  their  tormentors  how  they  might 


88  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

increase  their  torture.  -  In  the  midst  of  the  fire 
they  would  stand  unflinching,  and  die  without 
changing  a  muscle.  It  was  their  glory  to  die  in 
this  way  ;  they  felt  that  they  disappointed  their 
enemies  in  their  last  triumph. 

While  Boone  was  with  them,  a  noted  warrioi 
of  one  of  the  western  tribes,  with  which  the  Shaw- 
anese  were  at  war,  was  brought  in  as  a  captive. 
He  was  at  once  condemned,  stripped,  fastened  to 
the  stake,  and  the  fire  kindled.  After  suffering 
without  flinching  for  a  long  time,  he  laughed  at  his 
captors,  and  told  them  they  did  not  know  how  to 
make  an  enemy  eat  fire.  He  called  for  a  pipe  and 
tobacco.  Excited  by  his  bravery,  they  gave  it  to 
him.  He  sat  down  on  the  burning  coals,  and  com- 
menced smoking  with  the  utmost  composure  ;  not 
a  muscle  of  his  countenance  moved.  Seeing  this, 
one  of  his  captors  sprang  forward  and  cried  out 
that  he  was  a  true  warrior.  Though  he  had  mur- 
dered many  of  their  tribe,  yet  he  should  live,  if 
the  fire  had  not  spoiled  him.  The  fire  had,  how- 
ever, well  nigh  done  its  work.  With  that,  he  de- 
clared that  he  was  too  brave  a  man  to  sufl"er  any 
longer.  He  seized  a  tomahawk  and  raised  it  over 
the  head  of  the  prisoner  :  still  a  muscle  did  not 
move.  He  did  not  even  change  his  posture. 
The  blow  was  given,  and  the  brave  warrior  fell 
dead. 

While  among  them,  Boone  also  witnessed  the 


DANIEL    BOONE.  89 

mode  in  which  the  Shawanese  make  a  treaty  of 
peace.  The  warriors  of  both  tribes  between  which 
the  treaty  was  to  be  made,  met  together  first,  ate 
and  smoked  in  a  friendly  way,  and  then  pledged 
themselves  in  a  sacred  drink  caWed  ■2usse?ia.  The 
Shawanese  then  waved  large  fans,  made  of  eagles' 
tails,  and  danced.  The  other  party,  after  this, 
chose  six  of  their  finest  young  men,  painted  them 
with  white  clay,  and  adorned  their  heads  with 
swans'  feathers  ;  their  leader  was  then  placed  on 
what  was  called  the  "  consecrated  seat."  After 
this  they  all  commenced  dancing,  and  singing 
their  song  of  peace.  They  danced  first  in  a  bend- 
ing posture  ;  then  stood  upright,  still  dancing,  and 
bearing  in  their  right  hands  their  fans,  while  in 
their  left  they  carried  a  calabash,  tied  to  a  stick 
about  a  foot  long,  and  with  this  continually  beat 
their  breasts.  During  all  this,  some  added  to  the 
noise  by  rattling  pebbles  in  a  gourd.  This  being 
over,  the  peace  was  concluded.  It  was  an  act 
of  great  solemnity,  and  no  warrior  was  considered 
as  well  trained,  who  did  not  know  how  to  join  in 
every  part  of  it. 

Many  other  strange  things  were  seen  by  Boone 
among  these  people,  but  these  are  enough  to  show 
you  that  he  was  among  a  strange  people,  with 
habits  very  unlike  his  own.  It  is  not  wonderful 
that  he  sighed  to  escape,  when  he  looked  upon 
their  horrid  tortures.  Independently  of  his  love 
8* 


90  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

for  Boonesborough,  he  did  not  know  but  that  such 
tortures  might  be  his  at  any  moment,  when  they 
became  excited.  Fortunately,  as  we  have  seen, 
he  did  escape,  and  we  will  now  go  on  with  hia 
storv- 


DANIEL    BOONE. 


91 


CHAPTER    VI 


HEN  Boone  reache(?  Boon^s- 
borough,  the  object  he  most 
loved  was   not  to   be  found. 
His  poor  wife,  wearied  with 
waiting  for  him,  andnaturally 
conchiding  that  he  was  lost  to 
her  for  ever,  had  returned  to 
her   friends   on   the   Yadkin. 
2  The  settlers  had  begged  her  to  re- 
/^-  main,  and  offered  her-  every  kind- 
ness ;  but  her  husband  was  gone : 
she  was  heart-sick,  and  longed  to 

6  ... 

return  to  her  friends  in  Carolina. 
Disappointed  as  he  was,  however,  he 
had  no  time  to  waste  in  sorrow.  The 
Indians  were  approaching,  and  Boones- 
borough  was  well  nigh  defenceless.  Just  before 
his  return,  a  Major  Smith  had  taken  charge  of  the 
post,  and  been  busy  in  strengthening  it,  but  much 
was  still  to  be  done.  Boone's  energies  were  now 
at  work,  and  in  a  little  time  the  station  was  ready 
for  an  attack.    A  white  man  now  came  into  the  set- 


92  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

tlement  with  news.  He  had  escaped  f.om  the  Iti« 
dians.  .  The  party  from  which  Boone  had  escaped 
had  postponed  their  attack  for  three  weeks,  and 
gone  back  to  strengthen  themselves.  Thev  feh 
that  Boone  had  reached  home — the  alarm  was 
given,  the  place  fortified — and  that  it  was  idle  to 
attack  it  at  this  time. 

Boone  determined  at  once  to  improve  the  mean 
season.  With  nineteen  men,  he  started  off 
to  sm-prise  the  Indians  at  Paint  Creek  Town,  a 
small  village  on  the  Scioto.  When  he  came  with- 
in four  m.iles  of  the  place,  he  met  a  party  of  the 
savages  on  their  way  to  join  the  large  body  march- 
ing against  Boonesborough.  The  fight  instantly 
commenced  :  one  Indian  fell  dead,  several  were 
wounded,  and  the  rest  were  forced  to  retreat ;  their 
horses  and  all  their  baggage  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Boone.  Two  men  were  now  sent  to  reconnoitre 
the  town.  They  found  no  Indians  there  ;  they 
had  all  left.  After  setting  fire  to  the  village,  thty 
returned,  and  Boone  immediately  hurried  home- 
ward. 

He  had  scarcely  entered  the  station,  and  closed 
the  gates,  when  an  army  of  four  hundred  and  forty- 
four  Indians,  led  on  by  a  Frenchman  named  Du- 
quesne,  appeared  before  the  settlement.  They 
soon  sent  in  a  flag,  demanding,  in  the  name  of  the 
King  of  Great  Britain,  that  the  station  should  in- 
stantly surrender.     A  council   was    immediately 


DANIEL    BOONE. 


93 


held  in  the  fort.  With  such  a  force  before  them^ 
Smith  was  in  favor  of  meeting  their  proposal ; 
Boone  opposed  it ;  the  settlers  backed  him  in  this 
opposition  ;  and  he  sent  back  for  an  answer  to  the 
Indians  that  the  gates  should  never  be  opened  to 
them.  Presently  another  flag  of  truce  was  sent 
in,  with  a  message  that  they  had  a  letter  for  Colonel 
Boone  from  Governor  Hamilton,  of  Detroit.  Upon 
hearing  this,  it  was  thought  best  that  Boone  and 
Smith  should  go  out  and  meet  them,  and  hear  what 
they  had  to  say. 

Fifty  yards  from  the  fort  they  were  met  by  three 
chiefs,  who  received  them  very  cordially,  and  led 
them  to  the  spot  where  they  were  to  hold  the  par- 
ley. Here  they  were  seated  npon  a  panther's 
skin,  while  the  Indians  held  branches  over  their 
heads  to  protect  them  from  the  sun.  The  chiefs 
then  commenced  talking  in  a  friendly  way,  and 
some  of  their  warriors  now  came  forward,  ground- 
ed their  arms,  and  shook  hands  with  them.  Then 
the  letter  of  General  Hamilton  was  read  ;  he  invi- 
ted them  to  surrender  and  come  at  once  to  Detroit 
where  they  should  be  treated  with  all  kindness. 
Smith  objected  to  this  proposal,  declaring  that  it 
was  impossible  for  them,  at  this  time,  to  move 
their  women  and  children ;  but  the  Indians  had 
an  answer  ready :  they  had  brought  forty  hor- 
ses with  them,  they  said,  expressly  to  help  them 
in  removing.     After  a  long  and  friendly  talk,  the 


94  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

while  men  returned  to  the  fort,  for  the  purpose,  as 
they  said,  of  considering  the  proposaL  They 
now  informed  the  settlers  that  the  Indians  had  no 
cannon,  and  advised  them  never  to  think  of  sur- 
rendering. Every  man  thought  the  advice  good. 
The  Indians  now  sent  in  another  flag,  and  ask- 
ed what  treaty  the  whites  v/ere  ready  to  make. 
Boone,  who  had  suspected  treachery  all  the  time, 
at  once  sent  a  reply,  that  if  they  wished  to  make 
a  treaty,  the  place  for  making  it,  must  be  within 
sixty  yards  of  the  fort.  This  displeased  them  at 
first,  but  at  last,  they  consented.  He  then  sta- 
tioned some  of  his  men,  with  their  guns,  in  one 
angle  of  the  fort,  with  orders  to  fire  if  it  became 
necessary,  and,  with  Smith,  started  out  to  meet 
them.  x\fter  a  long  talk  with  thirty  chiefs,  terms 
were  agreed  upon,  and  the  treaty  was  ready  to  be 
signed  ;  the  chiefs  now  said  that  it  was  custom- 
ary with  them,  on  such  occasions,  for  the  Indians 
to  shake  hands  with  every  white  man  who  signed 
the  treaty,  as  a  token  of  the  warmest  friendship. 
Boone  and  Smith  agreed  to  this,  and  the  shaking 
-of  hands  commenced  ;  presently,  they  found  them- 
selves seized  in  the  crowd — the  Indians  were 
dragging  them  off;  a  fire  from  the  fort  now  lev- 
elled the  savages  who  grasped  them  ;  the  rest 
were  in  confusion,  and,  in  the  confusion,  Boone 
and  Smith  escaped  and  rushed  into  the  fort.  In 
the  struggle  Boone  was  wounded,  though  not  dan- 


DANIEL    BOONE.  95 

gerously.  It.  was  a  narrow  escape  for  both  of 
them. 

There  was  no  more  chance  for  deception  now  ; 
the  Indians  were  disappointed,  and  the  whites 
were  provoked  at  their  treachery.  A  brisk  firing 
now  commenced  on  both  sides  ;  Duquesne  ha- 
rangued the  Indians  and  urged  them  on,  while  the 
whites  shouted  from  the  fort,  upbraided  them  as 
treacherous  cowards,  and  defied  them.  The  at- 
tack was  furious,  the  firing  was  kept  up  till  dark, 
and  many  an  Indian  fell  that  day  before  Boones- 
borough.  The  whites,  sheltered  by  their  pickets, 
made  easy  havoc  among  them. 

When  night  came,  the  exasperated  Indians 
crawled  under  the  pickets  and  began  to  throw 
burning  materials  into  the  fort,  hoping  to  set  all 
on  fire  ;  but  in  this  they  were  disappointed — there 
were  ample  supplies  of  water  inside,  and  the  fire 
was  put  out  as  fast  as  it  fell. 

The  next  day  the  firing  was  resumed,  and  day 
after  day  it  continued,  the  Indians  failing  to  make 
any  impression.  They  were  too  far  from  the  fort 
— the  first  day's  work  had  taught  them  not  to 
come  near.  At  last  they  formed  a  wiser  plan  for 
doing  mischief.  Boonesborough,  as  you  will  re- 
member, was  only  sixty  yards  from  the  river,  and 
they  determined,  by  the  advice  of  the  Frenchman, 
to  let  the  water  in  and  force  the  settlers  out.  In 
the  night,  they  commenced  the  work  of  digging  a 


96  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

trench  under  ground,  from  the  river.  In  the  morn- 
ing Boone  looked  out  upon  the  river,  and  perceiv- 
ing  that  it  was  muddy,  instantly  guessed  the  cause 
He  immediately  set  his  men  to  the  work  of  cut- 
ling  a  trench  inside  the  fort,  to  cross  the  subterra- 
nean passage  of  the  Indians.  The  savages  saw 
what  was  doing,  for  Boone's  men  were  constancy 
shovelling  dirt  over  the  pickets,  but  they  persever- 
ed earnestly  in  their  design.  At  last,  however, 
they  were  forced  to  stop,  for  the  dirt  caved  in 
as  fast  as  they  dug ;  disappointed  in  this,  they 
now  summoned  the  station  once  more  to  a  treaty. 
But  Boone  laughed  at  them.  "  Do  you  suppose," 
said  he,  "  we  would  pretend  to  treat  with  such 
treacherous  wretches  1  Fire  on,  you  only  waste 
your  powder  ;  the  gates  shall  never  be  opened  to 
you  while  there  is  a  man  of  us  living."  Taking 
his  advice,  they  commenced  their  firing  again  ;  at 
last,  on  the  ninth  day  of  the  siege,  wearied  with 
their  fruitless  labor,  they  killed  all  the  cattle  they 
could  find,  raised  a  yell,  and  departed.  This  was 
a  terrible  siege  for  the  Indians  ;  it  is  said  that  they 
lost  two  hundred  men*,  Boone  counted  thirty-sev- 
en chief  warriors  ;  while  the  whites,  defended  by 
their  pickets,  had  but  two  killed  and  four  wounded. 
You  may  judge,  too,  how  industrious  the  savages 
had  been,  when  I  tell  you  that  the  whites  who 
wanted  lead,  commenced  gathering  their  balls  af- 
ter they  left,  and  succeeded  in  picking  out  of  the 


DANIEL    BOONE.  97 

logs,  and  from  the  ground,  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  pounds. 

Boone  having  thus  successfully  defended  his 
settlement,  determined  now  to  go  in  search  of  his 
wife.  Accustomed  to  travelling  through  the  woods, 
he  soon  made  his  lonely  journey  to  the  Yadkin. 
They  were  amazed  as  he  entered  the  house  of 
Mr.  Bryan,  his  wife's  father.  The  appearance  of 
one  risen  from  the  grave  could  not  have  surprised 
them  more  than  that  of  Boone — the  lost  man  was 
among  them,  and  great  was  their  rejoicing.  He 
now  remained  here  with  his  family  for  some  time, 
and  here  we  will  leave  him  for  a  little  while,  to 
talk  of  what  happened  in  Kentucky  during  his 
absence. 

The  Kentuckians,  roused  by  the  Indian  hostil- 
ity and  treachery,  determined  soon  after  he  left  to 
inflict  punishment  upon  them  ;  against  the  Shawa- 
nese  they  were  most  provoked ;  it  was  among  them 
that  most  of  the  plots  against  the  whites  were 
formed,  and  the  attack,  therefore,  was  to  be  made 
upon  them.  An  army  of  one  hundred  and  sixty 
men  was  soon  collected,  and  the  command  was 
given  to  a  brave  man  named  Colonel  Bowman ; 
they  were  to  march  directly  against  old  Chilicothe, 
the  den  of  the  savages. 

Ill  July  of  this  year  (1779),  they  started  and 
reached  the  home  of  the  Indians,  without  being 
discovered.  At  daylight,  the  fight  commenced  and 
9 


98  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

continued  till  ten  o'clock.  Bowman's  men  fought 
bravely,  but  the  Indians  had  every  advantage. 
Knowing  all  the  woods  about  their  settlement, 
while  one  party  fought  openly,  the  other,  conceal 
ed  behind  the  grass  and  trees,  poured  in  a  deadly 
fire  upon  the  whites.  He  was  forced  at  last  to 
retreat  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  a  distance  of  thirty 
miles;  but  the  Indians  pursued  him  here,  doing 
more  mischief  than  before.  The  savages  fought 
desperately.  His  men  were  falling  around  him, 
and  but  for  Colonel  Harrod,  every  man  of  them 
might  have  been  killed.  Seeing  the  slaughter 
that  was  continually  increasing,  he  mounted  a 
body  of  horsemen  and  made  a  charge  upon  the 
enemy ;  this  broke  their  ranks,  they  were  thrown 
into  confusion,  and  Bowman,  with  the  remnant  of 
his  men,  was  enabled  to  retreat. 

This  attack  only  exasperated  the  Indians.  In 
the  course  of  the  next  summer  (after  doing  much 
mischief  in  a  smaller  way  in  the  meantime),  they 
gathered  together  to  the  number  of  six  hundred, 
and  led  on  by  Colonel  Bird,  a  British  officer,  came 
down  upon  Riddle's  and  Martin's  stations,  at  the 
forks  of  Licking  river.  They  had  with  them  six 
cannons,  and  managed  their  matters  so  secretly, 
that  the  first  news  of  their  approach  was  given  to 
the  settlers  by  the  roar  of  their  guns.  Of  course 
it  was  of  no  use  to  resist ;  the  pickets  could  not  de- 
fend them  from  cannon-balls ;  the   settlers  were 


DANIEL    BOONE.  99 

forced  to  surrender.  The  savages  rushed  into  the 
station  and  instantly  killed  one  man  and  two  wo- 
men with  their  tomahawks  ;  all  the  others,  many  of 
whom  were  sick,  were  now  loaded  with  baggage 
and  forced  to  march  off  with  the  Indians.  It  was 
certain  death  to  any  one,  old  or  young,  male  or  fe- 
male, who  became,  on  the  march,  too  weak  and 
exhausted  to  travel  farther ;  they  were  instantly 
killed  with  the  tomahawk. 

Flushed  with  success,  the  Indians  were  now 
more  troublesome  than  ever ;  it  was  impossible 
for  the  whites  to  remain  in  the  country  i-f  matters 
were  to  go  on  in  this  way.  The  inhabitants  at 
last  threw  themselves  upon  the  protection  of  Col- 
onel Clarke,  who  commanded  a  regiment  of  United 
States  soldiers  at  the  falls  of  the  Ohio.  At  the 
head  of  his  men  and  a  large  number  of  A^olunteers, 
he  marched  against  Pecaway,  one  of  the  principal 
towns  of  the  Shawanese  ;  numbers  of  the  savages 
were  killed,  and  the  town  was  burnt  to  ashes. 
This  was  a  triumph,  but  it  was  a  triumph  gained 
by  the  loss  of  seventeen  of  his  men. 

In  1780,  Boone  again  returned  to  Boonesborough 
with  his  family,  bringing  with  him  also  a  younger 
brother.  The  elder  brother  (who  had  been  in 
Kentucky  before,  as  you  will  remember)  now  re- 
turned also,  and  made  his  home  at  a  spot  not  far 
from  the  place  where  the  town  of  Shelbyville  now 
stands.      The  settlers  were  all  delighted  to  see 


100  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

their  old  friend  Daniel  Boone  once  more  among 
them  ;  they  now  felt  that  their  leader  was  on  the 
ground.  Mrs.  Boone  too  felt  happy.  Though  she 
was  again  on  "  the  dark  and  hloody  ground,^'  her 
husband  was  with  her. 

In  a  little  time  his  services  were  again  especial- 
ly needed.  The  want  of  salt,  their  old  trouble 
was  upon  them,  and  they  looked  to  Boone  to  pro- 
cure it.  Ever  ready,  he  started  off  with  his  young- 
er brother  to  the  Blue  Licks,  the  place  of  his  for- 
mer trouble ;  here  he  was  destined  to  meet  with 
trouble  again.  They  had  made  as  much  salt  as 
they  could  carry,  and  were  now  returning  to 
Boonesborough  with  their  packs,  when  they  were 
suddenly  overtaken  by  a  party  of  savages  ;  the 
Indians  immediately  fired,  and  Boone's  brother  fell 
dead.  Daniel  Boone  turned,  levelled  his  rifle  at 
the  foremost  Indian,  and  brought  him  down  ;  with 
a  loud  yell  the  party  now  rushed  toward  him.  He 
snatched  his  brother's  rifle,  levelled  another,  and 
then  ran.  The  Indians  gave  chase,  but  he  managed 
to  keep  ahead,  and  even  found  time  to  reload  his 
rifle.  He  knew  that  his  only  chance  for  escape 
was  to  distance  them,  and  break  his  trail.  He 
passed  the  brow  of  a  hill,  jumped  into  a  brook 
below,  waded  in  it  for  some  distance,  and  then 
struck  off  at  right  angles  from  his  old  course. 
Upon  looking  back  he  found,  to  his  sorrow,  that 
he  had  not  succeeded — the  Indians  were  still  on 


DANIEL    BOONE.  101 

his  track.  Presently,  lie  came  to  a  grape-vine,  and 
tried  his  old  experiment  at  breaking  the  trail.  This 
was  to  no  purpose,  he  found  the  savages  still  fol- 
lowing him.  After  travelling  some  distance  farther, 
upon  looking  round  he  saw  the  cause  of  his 
trouble  ;  the  Indians  had  a  dog  with  them,  and  this 
dog,  scenting  his  track,  kept  them  for  ever  on  his 
course.  His  rifle  was  loaded — the  dog  was  far 
ahead  of  the  party — and  Boone  sent  a  rifle  ball 
through  him.  He  now  pushed  on,  doubling  his 
course  from  time  to  time  ;  the  Indians  lost  track 
of  him,  and  he  reached  Boonesborough  in  safety. 

In  spite  of  the  continued  annoyance  of  the  Indians, 
the  white  settlements  had  continued  to  grow,  and 
there  were  now  so  many  white  men  in  the  coun- 
try, that  in  the  fall  of  this  year  (1780),  Kentucky 
was  divided  into  the  three  counties  of  Jefferson, 
Fayette,  and  Lincoln.  Our  friend,  Daniel  Boone, 
was  appointed  to  command  the  militia  in  his  coun- 
ty ^  and  William  Pope,  and  Benjamin  Logan,  two 
brave  men,  were  to  have  the  command  in  theirs. 

The  winter  of  this  year  soon  set  in,  and  it  proved 
a  hard  one.  The  settlers,  however,  bore  it  cheer- 
fully, for  they  were  accustomed  to  hardships. 
Hard  as  it  was,  too,  it  proved  mild  to  the  next  that 
followed.  The  winter  of  1781  was  long  remem- 
bered as  "  the  cold  winter"  in  Kentucky.  To  make 
it  harder,  the  Indians,  after  doing  much  mischief 
through  the  summer,  had  destroyed  most  of  the 
9* 


103  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

crops  the  preceding  fall,  and  the  settlors  had  small 
supplies  of  food.  But  the  forest  was  around  them  ; 
Boone  and  Harrod  were  among  them,  and  these 
two  men  found  food  enough.  Every  day  they  went 
out  in  the  winter's  storms — every  night  they  came 
in  laden  with  deer  and  buffaloes.  The  people 
learned  to  live  on  nothing  but  meat.  Boone  and 
Harrod  drove  away  all  thoughts  of  starvation. 
They  had,  however,  this  one  comfort :  the  cold 
weather  kept  the  Indians  at  home.  They  had  no 
disturbances  throughout  the  winter  from  them. 

When  spring  opened,  however,  the  savages 
showed  themselves  more  furious,  if  possible,  than 
ever.  Their  plans  of  mischief  were  better  laid  ; 
they  seemed  to  have  been  feeding  their  revenge 
fat.  Open  and  secret  war  was  all  around  the  set- 
tlers. It  would  be  idle  for  me  to  attempt  to  give 
details  of  the  doings  of  the  savages.  Ashton's, 
Hoy's,  M'Afee's,  Kincheloe's,  and  Boone's  sta- 
tion, near  Shelbyville,  were  all  attacked.  Men 
were  shot  down  in  the  open  fields,  or  waylaid  in 
every  pathway.  The  early  annals  of  Kentucky 
are  filled  with  stories  of  many  a  brave  white  man 
at  this  time.  There  were  Ashton,  Holden,  Lyn, 
Tipton,  Chapman,  White,  Boone,  Floyd,  Wells, 
the  M' A  fees,  M'Gary,  Randolph,  Reynolds,  and 
others,  some  of  whom  were  killed,  and  all  of  whom 
had  their  hard  struggles.  The  history  of  that 
spring  is  only  a  story  of  burnings,  captures,  and 


DANIEL    BOONE.  103 

murders,  on  the  part  of  the  savages.  It  was  a 
dark  period  for  the  white  men  ;  even  Boone,  with 
all  his  vigor  and  fearlessness,  thought  it  the  dark- 
est period  he  had  known  in  that  region.  The 
savages  seemed  bent  upon  a  war  of  extermination. 

Not  satisfied  with  such  mischief  as  they  had  al- 
ready done,  in  the  early  part  of  the  smnmer  the 
savages  held  a  grand  council  at  Old  Chilicothe,  to 
arrange  their  plans  for  further  destruction.  There 
were  chiefs  there  from  the  Cherokees,  Wyandots, 
Tawas,  Pottawattomies,  and  most  of  the  tribes  bor- 
dering on  the  lakes.  Two  notorious  white  villains 
— whose  names  will  never  be  -forgotten  in  Ken- 
tucky— were  there  also,  to  aid  them  with  their 
counsels.  These  were  Girtyand  M'Kee,  infamous 
men,  who  lived  among  the  Indians,  and  lived  only 
by  murdering  their  own  countrymen.  Their  plan 
was  soon  settled.  Bryant's  station,  near  Lexing- 
ton, was  known  to  be  a  strong  post,  and  this  was 
to  be  attacked.  This  station  had  within  it  forty 
cabins,  and  here  it  was  thought  they  might  make 
the  greatest  slaughter.  The  warriors  were  to 
gather  as  rapidly  as  possible  for  the  enterprise. 

In  a  little  time,  five  hundred  of  them  rallied  at 
Girty's  cabin,  ready  for  their  departure.  The 
white  rascal  then  made  a  speech  to  them.  He 
told  them  that  "  Kentucky  was  a  beautiful  hunting- 
ground,  filfed  with  deer  and  buffaloes,  for  their 
comfort ;  the  white  men  had  come  to  drive  them 


104  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

away ;  the  ground  was  now  red  with  the  blood  of 
the  red  men  that  had  been  slain.  But  vengeance 
they  would  have — now,  before  the  whites  were 
yet  fastened  in  the  country,  they  would  strike  a 
blow,  and  drive  them  off  for  ever."  Then  he  talked 
of  the  plan  before  them.  He  advised  them  to  de- 
scend the  Miami  in*  their  cSnoes,  cross  the  Ohio, 
ascend  the  Licking,  and  then  they  might  paddle 
their  boats  almost  to  the  station.  His  speech  was 
answered  by  a  loud  yell  from  the  Indians,  and 
they  all  started  off  for  their  boats — Simon  Girty, 
with  his  ruffled  shirt  and  soldier  coat,  marching  at 
their  head. 

On  the  night  of  the  15th  of  August,  they  arrived 
before  the  station.  In  the  morning,  as  the  gates 
were  opened,  the  men  were  fired  at  by  the  sav- 
ages, and  this  was  the  first  news  to  the  whites  of 
the  approach  of  the  enemy.  It  was  fortunate  that 
they  had  shown  themselves  thus  early  :  in  two 
hours  more,  most  of  the  men  were  to  have  started 
off  to  aid  a  distant  feeble  station.  As  soon  as  the 
whites  found  they  were  besieged,  they  managed  to 
send  off  the  news  to  Lexington. 

The  Indians  now,  as  usual,  commenced  theii 
stratagems.  The  large  body  concealed  themselves 
in  the  grass  near  the  pathway  to  the  spring,  while 
one  hundred  went  round  and  attacked  the  southeast 
angle  of  the  station.  Their  hope  was  to  draw  the 
whites  all  to  that  quarter,  while  they  forced  an  en- 


DANIEL    BOONE.  105 

trance  on  the  other  side.  But  the  white  men  under- 
stood this  sort  of  cunning ;  they  had  lived  among  the 
Indians  toolongto  be  caught  by  such  tricks  :  instead 
of  noticing  the  attack,  they  went  on  quietly  with  the 
work  of  repairing  and  strengthening  their  pali- 
sades. 

But  water,  one  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  was 
soon  wanting.  The  whites,  as  they'  looked  a^  the 
tall  grass  and  weeds  near  the  spring,  felt  that  In- 
dians were  lurking  there.  The  women  now  came 
forward  and  insisted  upon  it  that  they  would  go 
and  bring  water.  "  What  if  they  do  shoot  us  ?" 
they  said ;  "it  is  better  to  lose  a  woman  than  a 
man  at  such  a  time."  With  that,  they  started 
out,  and,  strange  to  tell,  went  back  and  forth, 
bringing  supplies  of  water,  without  any  difficulty. 
Some  of  the  young  men  now  went  out  upon  the 
same  purpose.  They  had  scarcely  left  the  sta- 
tion, when  they  were  fired  upon.  Fortunately,  the 
Indians  were  too  far  to  do  any  mischief ;  the  men 
retreated  rapidly  within  the  palisades.  The  In- 
dians, finding  their  stratagem  fruitless,  now  rushed 
forward,  and  commenced  a  tremendous  attack. 
The  whites  received  them  with  a  steady  fire,  and 
many  of  them  fell.  Enraged  the  more,  they  now 
discharged  their  burning  arrows  into  the  roofs  of 
the  houses  ;  some  of  the  cabins  were  burnt,  but  an 
east  wind  was  blowing  at  the  time,  and  that  saveu 
the  station. 


106  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

The  enemy  now  fell  back  into  the  grass.  They 
had  found  out,  in  some  way,  that  help  was  expect- 
ed from  Lexington,  and  they  were  preparing  to 
cut  it  off.  In  a  little  time,  all  was  still.  Present- 
ly sixteen  horsemen,  followed  by  thirty-one  foot- 
soldiers,  were  seen  coming ;  these  were  the  men 
from  Lexington.  Thinking  only  of  the  distress 
of  their  friends,  they  were  hurrying  along,  when 
the  Indians  opened  a  fire  upon  them.  The  horse- 
men galloped  off  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  and  reached 
the  station  in  safety.  The  soldiers  on  foot,  in 
their  effort  to  escape,  plunged  into  the  cornfields 
on  either  side  of  the  road,  only  to  meet  the  ene- 
my. A  desperate  fight  commenced  on  both  sides  : 
two  soldiers  were  killed  ;  the  rest — four  of  them 
having  dangerous  wounds — -reached  the  pickets. 
The  exasperated  Indians,  disappointed  at  the  es- 
cape of  this  party,  now  wreaked  their  vengeance 
by  killing  all  the  cattle  they  could  find. 

Finding  all  their  efforts  to  enter  the  station  idle 
Simon  Girty  now  came  near  enough  to  be  heard, 
mounted  a  stump,  and  holding  in  his  hand  a  flag 
of  truce,  began  to  talk.  "  Surrender  promptly," 
cried  Simon ;  "  if  you  surrender  promptly,  no 
blood  shall  be  shed  ;  but  if  you  will  not  surren- 
der, then  know  that  our  cannons  and  reinforce- 
ments are  coming.  We  will  batter  down  your 
pickets  as  we  did  at  Riddle's  and  Martin's  ;  every 
man  of  you  shall  be  slain  ;  two  are  dead  already — 


DANIEL    BOONE.  107 

four  are  wounded  ;  every  man  shall  die."  This 
language  was  so  insolent,  that  some  of  the  settlers 
cried  out,  "  Shoot  the  rascal !"  No  man,  however, 
lifted  his  rifle  ;  the  flag  of  truce  protected  him, 
*'  I  am  under  a  flag  of  truce,"  cried  Simon ;  "  do 
you  know  who  it  is  that  speaks  to  you  ?" 

Upon  this,  a  young  man  named  Reynolds  leaped 
up  and  cried  out,  "  Know  you  !  know  you !  yes, 
we  know  you  well.  Know  Simon  Girty  !  yes  :  he 
is  the  renegado,  cowardly  villain,  who  loves  to  mur- 
der women  and  children,  especially  those  of  his 
own  people.  Know  Simon  Girty  !  yes  :  his  fa- 
ther must  have  been  a  panther,  and  his  mother  a 
wolf.  I  have  a  worthless  dog  that  kills  lambs : 
instead  of  shooting  him,  I  have  named  him  Simon 
Girty.  You  expect  reinforcements  and  cannon, 
do  you  ?  Cowardly  wretches  like  you,  that  make 
war  upon  women  and  children,  would  not  dare  to 
touch  them  oflf,  if  you  had  them.  We  expect  re- 
inforcements, too,  and  in  numbers  to  give  a  short 
account  of  the  murdering  cowards  that  follow  you. 
Even  if  you  could  batter  down  our  pickets,  I,  for 
one,  hold  your  people  in  too  much  contempt  to 
shoot  rifles  at  them.  I  would  not  waste  powder 
and  ball  upon  you.  Should  you  even  enter  our 
fort,  I  am  ready  for  you ;  I  have  roasted  a  number 
of  Ij^ckory  switches,  with  which  we  mean  to  whip 
you  and  your  naked  cut-throats  out  of  the  coun- 
try !" 


108  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

Simon  was  now  furious  ;  cursing  and  swearing, 
he  went  back  to  his  friends,  amid  the  loud  laughs 
and  jeers  of  the  whites.  In  a  little  time,  the  firing 
was  renewed  ;  it  was  all  to  no  purpose  :  no  white 
man  suffered,  and  every  Indian  who  came  within 
gun-shot  of  the  fort  was  sure  to  fall.  In  the  course 
of  the  night  the  whole  party  sneaked  off,  and  their 
tracks  indicated  that  they  had  started  for  the  Blue 
Licks.  They  left  behind  them  thirty  of  their 
number  slain. 


DANIEL    BOONE 


lOfi 


CHAPTER    VII. 


OLONEL  TODD,of  Lexing. 
ton,  instantly  despatched  news 
of  this  attack  on  Bryant's  sta- 
tion, to  Colonel  Boone,  at 
Boonesborough,  and  Colonel 
Trigg,  near  Harrodsburgh.  In 
a  little  time,  one  hundred  and 
seventy-six  men  were  collect- 
under  these  three  officers,  to 
larch  in  pursuit.  Majors  M'Gary 
and  Harland  now  joined  them,  de- 
termined that  they  would  have  a 
part  in  the  punishment  of  the  sav- 
ages. It  was  known,  too,  that  Colonel 
Logan  was  collecting  a  force,  and  a 
council  of  officers  was  at  once  held,  to 
determine  whether  they  should  march  on,  or  wait 
for  him.  They  were  all  so  eager  to  be  off,  that 
it  was  thought  best  to  march  immediately.  The 
march  was  therefore  commenced  forthwith. 
10 


110  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

Following  on  in  the  trail  of  the  Indians,  they 
had  not  gone  far,  when  Boone  saw  enough  to  con- 
vince him  that  the  Indians  would  not  only  be  wil- 
ling, but  glad  to  meet  them.  No  effort  had  been 
made  to  conceal  their  trail  ;  the  trees  were  even 
marked  on  their  pathway,  that  the  whites  mign* 
follow  on  ;  and  they  had  tried  to  conceal  their 
numbers,  by  treading  in  each  other's  footsteps 
He  called  the  attention  of  his  companions  to  this, 
but  still  they  proceeded  onward. 

They  saw  no  Indians  until  they  came  to  the 
Licking  river,  not  far  from  the  Blue  Licks.  A 
party  was  now  seen  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream, 
leisurely  crossing  a  hill.  A  council  was  at  once 
held,  and  the  officers  all  turned  to  Boone  for  ad- 
vice. His  advice  was  given  frankly  :  he  was  for 
waiting  till  Logan  should  arrive  with  his  men. 
The  Indian  party,  he  felt  assured,  was  at  the  least 
from  four  to  five  hundred  strong,  and  the  uncon- 
cerned mode  in  which  the  Indians  crossed  the 
hill  showed  that  the  main  body  was  near,  and  their 
design  was  to  draw  them  over  the  river.  More- 
over, he  was  acquainted  with  all  that  region  of  the 
country.  •  After  they  crossed  the  ford,  they  would 
come  upon  deep  ravines  not  far  from  the  bank, 
where,  no  doubt,  the  Indians  were  in  ambush.  Ifj 
however,  they  were  determined  not  to  wait  for 
Logan,  he  advised  that  the  country  might  at  least 
be  reconnoitred  before  the  attack  was  made.     A 


DANIEL    BOONE.  Ill 

part  of  the  men,  he  thought,  might  cross  the  stream, 
and  move  up  cautiously  on  the  other  side,  while 
the  remainder  would  stand  where  they  were, 
ready  to  assist  them  at  the  first  alarm.  Todd  and 
Trigg  thought  the  advice  good,  and  were  disposed 
to  heed  it ;  but,  just  at  this  moment.  Major  M'Gary, 
more  hot-headed  than  wise,  spurred  his  horse  into 
the  water,  gave  the  Kentucky  war-whoop,  and  cried 
out,  "All  those  that  are  not  cowards  will  follow 
me  ;  I  will  show  them  where  the  Indiana  are." 
The  men  were  roused  by  this  show  of  bravery, 
and  they  all  crossed  the  ford. 

The  banks  were  steep  on  the  other  side,  and 
many  of  them  now  dismounted,  tied  their  horses, 
and  commenced  marching  on  foot.  M'Gary  and 
Harland  led  the  way.  They  had  not  proceeded 
far  when  they  came  to  one  of  the  ravines.  It  was 
just  as  Boone  had  supposed ;  the  savages  were  in 
ambush.  A  deadly  fire  was  now  poured  in  upon 
the  whites ;  the  men  staggered  and  fell  in  every 
direction.  The  fire  was  returned,  but  to  little  pur- 
pose, for  the  enemy  was  completely  concealed ;  a 
retreat  was  all  that  was  left.  The  whites  hurried 
back  toward  the  river  ;  the  Indians  pursued  ;  and 
now  commenced  the  slaughter  with  the  tomahawk. 
The  ford  was  narrow,  and  multitudes  were  slaugh- 
tsrcd  there.  Some  were  trying  to  get  to  their 
horses  ;  others,  more  fortunate,  were  mounted  and 
flying     and  some  were  plunging  into  the  stream. 


112  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  confusion,  the  Indians  were 
doing  their  work  of  destruction. 

A  man  by  the  name  of  Netherland  (who  had 
been  laughed  at  for  his  cowardice)  had  never  dis- 
mounted his  horse,  and  was  the  first  to  reach  the  op- 
posite shore.  In  a  little  time,  some  of  his  comrades 
were  around  him.  He  now  turned,  and,  looking 
back,  saw  the  massacre  that  was  going  on.  This 
was  more  than  he  could  bear.  "  Halt !  fire  on  the 
Indian^,"  cried  he  ;  "  protect  the  men  in  the  river." 
With  this,  the  men  wheeled,  fired,  and  rescued 
several  poor  fellows  in  the  stream,  over  whom  the 
tomahawk  was  lifted. 

Reynolds,  the  man  who  answered  Girty's  inso- 
lence, made  a^  narrow  escape.  Finding,  in  the 
retreat,  one  of  the  officers  wounded,  he  gave  him 
his  horse,  and  was  soon  after  taken  by  three  In- 
dians. They  were  now  over  him,  ready  to  de- 
spatch him,  when  two  retreating  white  men  rushed 
by.  Two  of  the  savages  started  in  pursuit ;  the 
third  stooped  for  an  instant  to  tie  his  moccasin, 
when  Reynolds  sprang  away  from  him  and  es- 
caped. 

This  was  a  terrible  battle  for  the  white  men. 
More  than  sixty  of  their  number  were  slain,  and 
among  them  were  most  of  their  officers  :  Colonels 
Todd  and  Trigg,  Majors  Harland  and  Bulger,  Cap- 
tains Gordon  and  M'Bride,  and  a  son  of  Colonel 
Boone,  were  all  among  the  dead. 


DANIEL    BOONE.  113 

Those  who  had  regained  the  other  shore,  not 
having  strength  to  rally,  started  homeward  in  great 
sadness.  On  their  way  they  met  Colonel  Logan. 
He  had  gone  to  Bryant's  station  with  his  five  hun- 
dred men,  and  was  greatly  disappointed  when  he 
found  they  had  all  started  without  him  ;  he  pushed 
on,  however,  as  rapidly  as  he  could,  hoping  to 
overtake  them  before  they  made  their  attack  on 
the  savages.  The  sad  story  of  the  defeat  was  soon 
told.  All  that  remained  to  be  done  now  was  to  go 
back,  and,  if  possible,  bury  the  dead.  Upon  this 
sad  business  Logan  continued  his  march.  Upon 
reaching  the  ground,  the  spectacle  was  awful :  the 
dead  bodies  were  strewn  over  it  just  as  they  had 
fallen,  the  heat  was  intense,  and  birds  of  prey 
were  feeding  upon  the  carcasses.  The  bodies 
were  so  mangled  and  changed,  that  no  man  could 
be  distinguished  ;  friends  could  not  recognise  their 
nearest  relatives.  The  dead  were  buried  as  rap- 
idly as  possible,  and  Logan  left  the  scene  in  great 
sorrow. 

Nor  was  this  all  the  carnage.  The  Indians,  af- 
ter the  defeat^  had  scattered,  and  it  was  soon  found 
that  on  their  way  homeward  they  had  swept 
through  several  settlements,  carrying  destruction 
before  them.  Emboldened  by  their  triumph,  no 
man  could  tell  what  they  might  next  attempt. 

It  was  no  time  for  the  whites  to  be  idle.  They 
soon  rallied  in  large  numbers  at  Fort  Washington, 
10* 


114  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

the  present  site  of  the  city  of  Cincinnati.  General 
Clarke  was  at  once  made  commander-in-chief,  and 
Colonel  Logan  was  placed  next  under  him  in  com- 
mand. Clarke  immediately  started  with  a  thou- 
sand men  to  attack  the  Indian  towns  on  the  Miami. 
On  his  way  he  came  upon  the  cabin  of  Simon 
Girty ;  it  was  fortunate  for  Simon  that  a  straggling 
Indian  spied  Clarke's  men  coming,  in  time  to  let 
him  escape.  The  news  w^as  now  spread  every- 
where that  an  army  of  white  men  was  coming 
from  Kentucky.  The  consequence  was,  that  as 
Clarke  approached  the  towns,  he  found  them  all 
deserted  ;  the  Indians  had  Hed  to  the  woods.  His 
march,  however,  was  not  made  for  nothing.  The 
towns  of  Old  and  New  Chilicothe,  Pecaway,  and 
Wills'  Town,  were  all  reduced  to  ashes.  One 
old  Indian  warrior  was  surprised,  and  surrendered 
himself  a  prisoner.  This  man,  to  the  great  sor- 
row of  General  Clarke,  was  afterward  murdered 
by  one  of  the  soldiers. 

Notwithstanding  this  punishment,  Indian  mas- 
sacres still  went  on.  Stories  of  savage  butchery 
were  heard  of  everywhere  ;  every  station  that  they 
dared  approach  felt  their  fury,  and  the  poor  settler 
who  had  built  his  cabin  away  from  any  station  was 
sure  to  be  visited. 

General  Clarke  started  out  again,  against  the  In- 
dians on  the  Wabash.  Unfortunately,  his  expedi- 
tion failed  this  time,  for  the  want  of  provisions  for 


DANIEL    BOONE.  115 

his  men.  Another  expedition  of  Colonel  Logan, 
against  the  Shawanese  Indians,  was  more  success- 
fill.  He  surprised  one  of  their  towns,  killed  many 
of  their  warriors,  and  took  many  prisoners. 

The  war  had  now  become  so  serious,  that  in 
the  fall  of  1785  the  General  Government  invited 
all  the  lake  and  Ohio  tribes  of  Indians  to  meet  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Great  Miami.  It  was  hoped  that 
in  this  way  matters  might  be  settled  peaceably. 
But  many  of  the  tribes  were  insolent  and  ill-na- 
tured ;  they  refused  to  come  in,  giving  as  an  ex- 
cuse that  the  Kentuckians  were  for  ever  molesting 
them.  Emboldened  by  the  very  invitation,  they 
continued  the  warfare  more  vigorou  ly  than  ever. 
They  not  only  assaulted  the  settlements  already 
made,  but  made  an  attempt  to  guard  the  Ohio  river, 
to  prevent  any  further  settlers  from  reaching  the 
country  in  that  direction.  Small  parties  placed 
themselves  at  different  points  on  the  river,  from 
Pittsburgh  to  Louisville,  where  they  laid  in  am- 
bush and  fired  upon  every  boat  that  passed.  Some- 
times they  would  make  false  signals,  decoy  the 
boat  ashore,  and  murder  the  whole  crew.  They 
even  went  so  far  at  last  as  to  arm  and  man  the 
boats  they  had  taken,  and  cruise  up  and  down  the 
river. 

I  must  tell  you  of  a  very  bold  defence  made  on 
the  Ohio  about  this  time  by  a  Captain  Hubbel,  who 
vfov  l-vri)nrTnr>(T  "  "^sr'v  0^  eniir^iT'.ts  frotp  Vermont 


116  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

His  party  was  in  two  boats,  and  consisted  in  all 
of  twenty.  As  Hubbel  came  down  the  river,  he 
fell  in  with  other  boats,  was  told  of  the  Indian 
stratagems,  and  advised  to  be  careful.  Indeed, 
the  inmates  of  some  of  the  boats  begged  that  he 
would  continue  in  their  company,  and  thus  they 
would  be  able  to  meet  the  Indians  better  if  they 
should  be  attacked  ;  the  stronger  the  party,  the 
better,  in  such  a  condition.  But  Hubbel  refused 
to  do  this,  and  proceeded  onward.  He  had  not 
gone  far,  when  a  man  on  the  shore  began  to  make 
'signs  of  distress,  and  begged  that  the  boat  might 
come  and  take  him  off.  Hubbel  knew  well  enough 
that  this  was  an  Indian  disguised  as  a  white  man, 
and  therefore  took  no  notice  of  him.  In  a  little 
time,  a  party  of  savages  pushed  off  in  their  boats, 
and  attacked  him  jSercely.  The  fight  was  hot  on 
both  sides.  The  savages  tried  to  board  Hubbel's 
boat,  but  the  fire  was  too  hot  for  this.  Hubbel  re- 
ceived two  severe  wounds,  and  had  the  lock  of  his 
gun  shot  off  by  an  Indian  ;  still  he  fought,  touch- 
ing ofi"  his  broken  gun  from  time  to  time  with  a 
firebrand.  The  Indians  found  the  struggle  too 
hard,  and  were  glad  to  paddle  ofi".  Presently  they 
returned,  and  attacked  the  other  boat  ;  this  they 
seized  almost  without  an  efibrt,  killed  the  captain 
and  a  boy,  and  took  all  the  women  as  prisoners  to 
their  own  boats.  Now  they  came  once  more 
against  Hubbel,  and  cunningly  placed  the  women 


DANIEL    BOONE.  117 

on  the  sides  of  their  boats  as  a  sort  of  bulwark. 
But  this  did  not  stop  Hubbel :  he  saw  that  his  balls 
must  strike  the  women  ;  but  it  was  better  that  they 
should  be  killed  now,  rather  than  suffer  a  death  of 
torture  from  the  savages,  and  the  fire  was  at  once 
opened  upon  thern  again.  They  were  soon  driven 
off  once  more.  In  the  course  of  the  action,  how- 
ever, Hubbel's  boat  drifted  near  the  shore,  and  five 
hundred  savages  renewed  the  fire  upon  them.  One 
of  the  emigrants,  more  imprudent  than  the  rest, 
seeing  a  fine  chance  for  a  shot,  raised  his  head  to 
take  aim,  and  was  instantly  killed  by  a  ball.  The 
boat  drifted  along,  and  at  length  reached  deep  wa- 
ter again.  It  w^as  then  found,  that  of  the  nine  men 
on  board,  two  only  had  escaped  unhurt ;  two  were 
killed,  and  two  mortally  wounded.  A  remarkable 
lad  on  board  showed  great  courage.  He  now  asked 
his  friends  to  extract  a  ball  that  had  lodged  in  the 
skin  of  his  forehead  ;  and  when  this  was  done,  he 
begged  that  they  would  take  out  a  piece  of  bone 
that  had  been  fractured  in  his  elbow  by  another 
ball.  His  poor  frightened  mother,  seeing  his  suf- 
fering, asked  him  why  he  had  not  complained  be- 
fore ;  to  which  the  little  fellow  replied  that  he  had 
been  too  busy,  and,  besides  that,  the  captain  had 
told  them  all  to  make  no  noise. 

It  was  idle  to  attempt  now  to  settle  matters 
peaceably.  The  general  government  had  tried 
that  and  the  plan  had  failed.     The  war  was  now 


118  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

to  be  carried  on  to  a  close,  come  what  might.  An 
expedition  was  accordingly  planned,  against  all  the 
tribes  northwest  of  the  Ohio.  The  Indians  were 
to  be  brought  out,  if  possible  to  a  general  fight ;  or, 
if  that  could  not  be  done,  all  their  towns  and  cab- 
ins on  the  Scioto  and  Wabash,  were  to  be  destroy- 
ed. General  Harmar  was  appointed  commander 
of  the  main  expedition,  and  Major  Hamtranck  was 
to  aid  him  with  a  smaller  party. 

In  the  fall  of  1791,  Harmar  started  from 
Fort  Washington  with  three  hundred  and  twenty 
men.  In  a  little  time  he  was  joined  by  the  Ken- 
tucky and  Pennsylvania  militia,  so  that  his  whole 
force  now  amounted  to  fourteen  hundred  and  fifty- 
three  men.  Colonel  Hardin,  who  commanded  the 
Kentucky  militia,  was  now  sent  ahead  with  six 
hundred  men,  principally  militia-,  to  reconnoitre  the 
country.  Upon  reaching  the  Indian  settlements, 
the  savages  set  fire  to  their  houses  and  fled  ;  to 
overtake  them,  he  pushed  on  with  two  hundred 
of  his  men.  A  party  of  Indians  met  and  attacked 
them.  The  cowardly  militia  ran  ofi*,  leaving  their 
brave  companions  to  be  slaughtered.  It  was  a 
brave  struggle,  but  almost  all  were  cut  down  ;  only 
seven  managed  to  escape  and  join  the  main  army. 

Harmar  felt  deeply  mortified.     He  commenced 
fDrthwith  his  return  to  Fort  Washington,  but  deter 
mined  that,  on  the  way,  he  would  wipe  off  this 
disgrace  from  his  army.     Upon  coming  near  Chili 


DANIEL     BOONE.  119 

cothe  he  accordingly  halted,  and  in  the  night  des- 
patched Colonel  Hardin  once  more  ahead,  with 
orders  to  jfind  the  enemy  and  draw  them  into  an 
engagement.  About  daybreak  Hardin  came  upon 
them,  and  the  battle  commenced.  It  was  a  des- 
perate fight  on  both  sides.  Some  of  the  militia 
acted  badly  again,  but  the  officers  behaved  nobly. 
The  victory  was  claimed  on  both  sides,  but  I  think 
the  Indians  had  the  best  of  it.  Three  gallant  offi- 
cers,Fontaine, Willys,  and  Frothingham,were  slain, 
together  with  fifty  regulars  and  one  hundred  militia. 

Harmar  now  moved  on  to  Fort  Washington.  So 
much  was  said  about  his  miserable  campaign,that  hew 
requested  that  he  might  be  tried  by  a  court-martial. 
A-ccordingly  he  was  tried  and  honorably  acquitted. 

A  new  army  was  soon  raised,  and  the  command 
was  now  given  to  Major-General  Arthur  St.  Clair. 
His  plan  was  to  destroy  the  Indian  settlements 
between  the  Miamies,  drive  the  savages  from  that 
region,  and  establish  a  chain  of  military  posts 
there,  which  should  for  ever  keep  them  out  of  the 
country.  All  having  rallied  at  Fort  Washington, 
he  started  off  in  the  direction  of  the  Miami  towns. 
It  was  a  hard  march,  for  he  was  forced  to  cut  his 
roads  as  he  passed  along.  Upon  arriving  near  the 
Indian  countr}^,  he  built  forts  Hamilton  and  Jef- 
ferson and  garrisoned  them.  This  left  him  nearly 
two  thousand  men  to  proceed  with.  In  a  little 
time  some  of  the  worthless  militia  deserted.    This 


120  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

was  a  bad  example  to  the  rest,  and  St.  Clair  in 
stantly  sent  Major  Hamtranck,  with  a  regiment,  in 
pursuit  of  them,  while  he  continued  his  march. 
When  he  arrived  within  fifteen  miles  of  the  Mia- 
mi villages  he  halted  and  encamped  ;  he  was  soon 
after  joined  by  Major  Hamtranck,  and  St.  Clair 
proposed  now  immediately  to  march  against  the 
enemy. 

But  the  enemy  had  already  got  news  of  them, 
aud  had  made  ready.  They  were  determined  to 
have  the  first  blow  themselves.  At  daybreak  the 
next  morning,  the  savages  attacked  the  militia  and 
•drove  them  back  in  confusion.  These  broke 
tlirough  the  regulars,  forcing  their  way  into  the 
camp,  the  Indians  pressing  hard  on  their  heels. 
The  officers  tried  to  restore  order,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose :  the  fight  now  became  general.  This,  how- 
ever, was  only  a  small  part  of  the  Indian  force — 
there  were  four  thousand  of  the  party;  they  had 
nearly  surrounded  the  camp,  and  sheltered  by  the 
trees  and  grass  as  usual,  were  pouring  in  a  deadly 
fire  upon  the  whites.  St.  Clair  and  all  his  officers 
behaved  with  great  courage.  Finding  his  men 
falling  fast  around  him,  he  ordered  a  charge  to  be 
made  with  the  bayonet.  The  men  swept  through 
the  long  grass  driving  the  Indians  before  them. 
The  charge  had  no  sooner  ceased  than  the  In- 
dians returned.  Some  forced  their  way  into  the 
camp,  killed  the  artillerists,  wounded  Colonel  But- 


DANIEL    BOONE  12] 

lei,  and  seized  the  cannon.  Wounded  as  he  was, 
Butler  drove  them  back  and  recovered  the  guns. 
Fired  with  new  ardor,  they  returned  again,  once 
more  entered  the  camp — once  more  had  posses- 
sion of  the  cannon.  All  was  now  confusion  among 
the  whites — it  was  impossible  to  restore  order — 
the  Indians  brought  them  down  in  masses — 
a  retreat  was  all  that  remained.  But  they  were 
so  hemmed  in,  that  this  seemed  impossible.  Col- 
onel Darke  was  ordered  to  charge  the  savages  be- 
hind them,  while  Major  Clarke  with  his  battalion 
was  commanded  to  cover  the  rear  of  the  army. 
These  orders  were  instantly  obeyed,  and  the  dis- 
orderly retreat  commenced.  The  Indians  pursued 
them  four  miles,  keeping  up  a  running  fight.  At 
last  their  chief,  a  Mississago,  who  had  been  train- 
ed to  war  by  the  British,  cried  out  to  them  to  stop 
as  they  had  killed  enough.  They  then  returned 
to  plunder  the  camp  and  divide  the  spoils,  while 
the  routed  troops  continued  their  flight  to  Fort  Jef- 
ferson, throwing  away  their  arms  on  the  roadside 
that  they  might  run  faster.  The  Indians  found  in 
the  camp  seven  pieces  of  cannon,  two  hundred 
oxen,  and  several  horses,  and  had  a  great  rejoi- 
cing. Well  might  the  Mississago  chief  tell  his 
people  they  had  killed  enough  :  thirty-eight  com- 
missioned officers  were  slain,  and  five  hundred 
and  ninety-three  non-commissioned  officers  and 
privates.  Besides  this,  twenty-one  officers  and 
U 


122  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

two  hundred   and  forty-two   men  were  wounded, 
some  of  whom  soon  died  of  their  wounds. 

This  was  a  most  disastrous  battle  for  the  whites, 
the  most  disastrous  they  had  yet  known.  The 
triumphant  Indians  were  so  dehghted  that  they 
could  not  leave  the  field,  but  kept  up  their  revela 
from  day  to  day.  Their  revels,  however,  were  at 
length  broken  up  sorrowfully  for  them.  General 
Scott,  hearing  of  the  disaster,  pushed  on  for  ths 
field  with  6ne  thousand  mounted  volunteers  from 
Kentucky.  The  Indians  were  dancing  and  sing 
ing,  and  riding  the  horses  and  oxen  in  high  glee 
Scott  instantly  attacked  them  ;  two  hundred  wert 
killed,  their  plunder  retaken,  and  the  whole  bodj 
of  savages  driven  from  the  ground. 

When  Congress  met  soon  after  this,  of  course 
this  wretched  Indian  war  was  much  talked  of.  It 
was  proposed  at  once  to  raise  three  additional 
regiments.  Upon  this  a  hot  debate  sprang  up,  the 
proposal  was  opposed  warmly  ;  the  opponents  said 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  lay  a  heavy  tax  up- 
on the  people  to  raise  them,  that  the  war  had  been 
badly  managed,  and  should  have  been  trusted  to 
the  militia  in  the  west  under  their  own  officers, 
and,  moreover,  that  no  success  could  be  expected 
so  long  as  the  British  continued  to  hold  posts  in 
our  own  limits,  and  furnish  the  Indians  with  arms, 
ammunition,  and  advice. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  was  declared  that  the  wai 


DANIEL    BOONE.  123 

was  a  just  and  necessary  one.  It  was  shown  that 
in  seven  years  (between  1783  and  1790),  fifteen 
hundred  people  in  Kentucky  had  been  murdered 
or  taken  captives  by  the  savages  ;  while  in  Penn- 
sylvania and  Virginia  matters  had  been  well  nigh 
as  bad ;  that  everything  had  been  done  to  settle 
matters  peaceably  but  all  to  no  purpose.  In  1790, 
when  a  trfeaty  was  proposed  to  the  Indians  of  the 
Miami,  they  asked  for  thirty  days  to  deliberate — 
the  request  was  granted — during  those  thirty  days 
one  hundred  and  twenty  persons  had  been  killed 
or  captured,  and  at  the  end  of  the  time  the  sav- 
ages refused  to  give  any  answer  to  the  proposal. 
At  last  the  vote  was  taken — the  resolution  passed 
— the  war  was  to  be  carried  on — the  regiments 
were  to  be  raised. 

General  St.  Clair  now  resigned  the  command 
of  the  army,  and  Major  General  Anthony  Wayne 
was  appointed  to  succeed  him.  This  appointment 
gave  great  joy  to  the  western  people  ;  the  man 
was  so  well  known  among  them  for  his  daring  and 
bravery,  that  he  commonly  went  by  the  name  of 
"  Mad  Anthony." 

After  much  delay,  the  regiments  were  at  last 
gathered  together.  Some  still  opposed  this  war 
and  in  order  to  prove  to  them  that  the  government 
was  willing  to  settle  matters  peaceably,  if  possible, 
two  officers — Colonel  Hardin  and  Major  Truman, 
were  now  sent  off  to  the  Indians  with  proposals 


l24  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

of  peace.  They  were  both  seized  and  murdered 
by  the  savages. 

Wayne  now  started  out  upon  his  expedition.  In 
a  little  time  he  passed  Fort  Jefferson,  took  posses- 
sion of  St.  Clair's  fatal  field,  and  erected  a  fort 
there  which  he  called  Fort  Recovery.  He  now 
learned  the  truth  of  the  stories  about  the  British. 
A  number  of  British  soldiers  had  come  down  from 
Detroit,  and  fortified  themselves  on  the  Miami  of 
the  lakes.  It  was  rumored  too,  that  in  some  of  the 
Indian  fights  and  massacres,  the  English  were 
seen  among  them,  fighting  and  urging  them  on. 

The  General  continued  his  march,  and  early  ir 
August  reached  the  confluence  of  the  Miami  of 
the  Lakes  and  the  Au  Glaize.  This  was  one  of 
the  finest  countries  of  the  Indians,  it  was  about 
thirty  miles  from  the  British  post,  and  he  discov- 
ered here,  that  two  thousand  warriors  were  near 
that  post  ready  to  meet  him.  Wayne  was  glad  to 
hear  this  ;  his  army  was  quite  as  strong,  and  he 
longed  to  meet  the  savages.  As  he  drew  near, 
however,  he  determined  once  more  to  have  peace 
if  possible,  without  shedding  blood.  A  message 
was  sent  to  the  Indians,  urging  them  not  to  follow 
the  advice  of  bad  men,  to  lay  down  their  arms,  to 
learn  to  live  peaceably,  and  their  lives  and  their 
homes  should  be  protected  by  the  government 
An  insolent  answer,  was  all  that  was  received  in 
reply. 


DANIEL    BOONE.  125 

Wayne's  army  now  niarclied  on  in  columns — a 
select  battalion,  under  Major  Price,  moving  in  front 
to  reconnoitre.  After  marching  about  five  miles, 
Price  was  driven  back  by  the  fire  of  the  Indians. 
As  usual,  the  cunning  enemy  was  concealed ; 
they  had  hid  themselves  in  a  thick  wood  a  little 
in  advance  of  the  Briti-sh  post,  and  here  Price  had 
received  their  fire. 

Wayne  had  now  found  out  precisely  where 
they  were,  and  gave  his  orders  accordingly.  The 
cavalry  under  Captain  Campbell  were'commanded 
to  enter  the  wood  in  the  rear  of  the  Indians,  be- 
tween them  and  the  river,  and  charge  their  left 
flank.  General  Scott,  with  ekven  hundred  mount- 
ed Kentucky  volunteers,  Avas  to  make  a  circuit  in' 
the  opposite  direction,  and  attack  the  right.  The 
infantry  were  to  advance  with  trailed  arms,  and 
rouse  the  enemy  from  their  hiding-places.  All 
being  ready,  the  infantry  commenced  their  march. 
The  Indians  were  at  once  routed  at  the  point  of 
the  bayonet.  The  infantry  had  done  the  whole  ; 
Campbell  and  Scott  had  hardly  the  chance  of  do- 
ing any  of  the  fighting.  In  the  course  of  an  hour, 
they  had  driven  the  savages  back  two  miles  ;  in 
fact,  within  gun-shot  of  the  British  post. 

Wayne  had  now  the  possession  of  the  whole 

ground,  and  here  he  remained  three  days,  burning 

their  houses  and  cornfields  above   and  below  the 

fort.     One  Englishman  suffered,  too,  in  this  work 

11* 


126  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

of  destruction.  Colonel  M'Kee  was  known  as  a 
British  trader,for  ever  instigating  the  Indians  against 
the  Americans,  and  Wayne  did  not  scruple  to 
burn  all  his  houses  and  stores  likewise.  Majoi 
Campbell,  who  commanded  the  British  fort,  re- 
monstrated at  this,  but  Wayne  gave  him  a  bold  and 
determined  answer  in  reply,  and  he  had  no  more 
to  say.  A  few  words  from  him  would  only  have 
caused  Wayne  to  drive  him  from  the  country. 

The  army  now  returned  to  Au  Glaize,  destroy- 
ing all  the  houses,  villages,  and  crops  by  the  way. 
It  was  one  complete  work  of  destruction  ;  within 
fifty  miles  of  the  river  everything  was  destroyed. 
In  this  campaign,  Wayne  had  lost  one  hundred  and 
seven  men,  and  among  them  were  two  brave  offi- 
cers— Captain  Campbell  and  Lieutenant  Towles, 
but  still  he  had  gained  a  glorious  victory.  In  his 
track,  too,  he  had  not  forgotten  to  build  forts,  to 
guard  against  the  savages  in  future. 

The  story  of  the  victory  soon  spread,  and  struck 
terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  Indians  north  and  south. 
They  were  restless  and  dissatisfied,  but  war  was 
sure  destruction  to  them  ;  they  felt  that  it  was  idle 
to  attempt  it  further,  and  were  ready  to  be  quiet. 
In  less  than  a  year  from  this  time,  Wayne  con- 
cluded a  treaty,  in  behalf  of  the  United  States 
with  all  the  Indian  tribes  northwest  of  the  Ohio. 
The  settlers  at  last  had  peace — a  blessing  which 
they  had  long  desired. 


DANIEL    BOONE 


127 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

ITH  the  return  of  peace,  the 
settlers    were    very    happy. 
They  could  now  go  out,  fell 
the  forests,  and  cultivate  their 
fields  in  safety.     There  was 
no  longer  any  wily  savage  to 
lay  in  ambush,  and  keep  them 
in  perpetual  anxiety.   No  man 
among    them    was     happier    than 
Boone.     He  had  been  harassed  by 
r  V^-^'A^  constant   struggles    ever  since    he 
^r\Q.  came  to  Kentucky,  and  these  strug- 
^St>  gles  with  the  savages  had  made  him 

a  warrior  rather  than  a  hunter  ;  but  he 
'kAW  *^°"^^  "'^^^  return  to  his  darling  pas- 
'h  sion.      While    others    cultivated    the 

ground,  he  roamed  through  the  wilderness  with 
his  rifle  j  he  was  now  a  hunter  indeed,  spending 
weeks  and  months  uninterruptedly  in  the  forests 
By  day  he  moved  where  he  pleased,  and  at  night 
made  his  camp  fearlessly  wherever  the  shades  of 


128  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

night  overtook  him.  His  life  was  now  happiei 
than  ever. 

Ere  long,  however,  a  cloud  came  over  this  hap- 
piness. Men  began  again  to  crowd  too  closely 
upon  him.  In  spite  of  all  the  early  struggles  with 
the  savages  in  Kentucky,  emigrants  had  continued 
to  flow  into  that  country.  As  early  as  1783,  Ken- 
tucky had  been  laid  off  into  three  counties,  and 
was  that  year  formed  into  one  district,  and  called 
the  District  of  Kentucky.  In  1785,  a  convention 
was  called  at  Danville,  and  a  memorial  was  ad- 
dressed to  the  legislature  of  Virginia,  proposing 
that  Kentucky  should  be  erected  into  an  indepen- 
dent State.  In  1786,  the  legislature  of  Virginia 
took  the  necessary  steps  for  making  the  new  State, 
if  Congress  would  admit  it  into  the  Union.  In 
1792,  Kentucky  was  admitted  into  the  Union  as 
one  of  the  United  States  of  America.  And  now 
that  peace  had  come  to  aid  the  settlers,  emigration 
flowed  in  more  rapidly.  Court-houses,  jails,  judges, 
lawyers,  sherifls,  and  constables,  began  necessa- 
rily to  be  seen.  Kentucky  was  becoming  every 
day  a  more  settled  and  civilized  region,  and  Boone's 
heart  grew  sick.  He  had  sought  the  wilderness, 
and  men  were  fast  taking  it  away  from  him.  He 
began  to  think  of  moving. 

Another  sorrow  now  came  over  him,  and  soon 
fixed  in  him  the  determination  to  seek  a  new  home 
Men  began  to  dispute  with  him  the  title  to  his 


DANIEL    BOONE.  129 

land.  The  State  of  Kentucky  had  not  been  sur- 
veyed by  the  government,  and  laid  off  into  sections 
and  townships,  as  the  lands  north  of  the  Ohio  river 
have  since  been.  The  government  of  Virginia 
had  issued  certificates,  entitling  the  holder  to  locate 
where  he  pleased  the  number  of  acres  called  for. 
To  actual  settlers,  who  should  build  a  cabin,  raise 
a  crop,  &c.,  pre-emption  rights  to  such  lands  as 
they  might  occupy  were  also  granted.  Entries 
of  these  certificates  were  made  in  a  way  so  loose, 
that  different  men  frequently  located  the  same 
lands  ;  one  title  would  often  lap  over  upon  anoth- 
er ;  and  almost  all  the  titles  conferred  in  this  way 
became  known  as  "  the  lapping,  or  shingle  titles." 
Continued  lawsuits  sprang  out  of  this  state  of 
things ;  no  man  knew  what  belonged  to  him. 
Boone  had  made  these  loose  entries  of  his  lands : 
his  titles,  of  course,  were  disputed.  It  was  curi- 
ous to  see  the  old  man  in  a  court  of  law,  which  he 
thoroughly  despised,  fighting  for  his  rights.  He 
was  greatly  provoked  ;  he  had  explored  and  re- 
deemed the  wilderness,  as  h6  said,  borne  every 
hardship  with  his  wife  and  children,  only  to  be 
cheated  at  last.  But  the  law  decided  against  him  ; 
he  lost  his  lands,  and  would  now  no  longer  remain 
in  that  region. 

Hearing  that  buffaloes  and  deer  were  still  plenty 
about  the  Great  Kanhawa  river,  he  started  thither 
with  his  wife  and  children,  and  settled  near  Point 


130  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

Pleasant.  Here  lie  remained  several  years.  Ho 
was  disappointed  in  not  finding  game  as  he  expect- 
ed, and  was  more  of  a  farmer  here  than  ever  be- 
fore ;  he  turned  his  attention  earnestly  to  agricul- 
ture, and  was  very  successful  in  raising  good 
crops.  Still  he  was  dissatisfied  ;  he  longed  for 
the  wilderness.  Hunting  and  trapping  were  the 
constant  thoughts  of  his  life. 

While  living  here,  he  met  accidentally  with  a 
party  of  men  who  had  been  out  upon  the  tipper 
waters  of  the  Missouri.  These  men  talked  of  the 
beauty  of  that  region  :  they  had  stories  to  tell  of 
grizzly  bears,  buffaloes,  deer,  beavers,  and  otters — 
in  fact,  the  region  was  in  their  eyes  "  the  paradise 
for  a  hunter."  Fired  by  these  stories,  Boone  re- 
solved to  go  there.  Accordingly,  he  gathered  to- 
gether all  that  he  possessed,  and  with  his  wife  and 
family  sta!rted  for  Missouri,  driving  his  herds  and 
cattle  before  him.  It  was  strange  to  see  an  old 
man  thus  vigorous  in  seeking  a  new  home.  He 
was  an  object  of  surprise  to  everyone.  When  he 
reached  Cincinnati,  on  his  route,  some  one,  mark- 
ing his  age,  and  surprised  at  his  adventure,  asked 
him  how,  at  his  time  of  life,  he  could  leave  all  the 
comforts  of  home,  for  the  wilderness.  His  answer 
shows  his  whole  character  :  "  Too  much  crowded, 
too  much  crowded,"  said  he  ;  "  I  want  more  elbow- 
room."     Travelling  on,  he  at  length  reached  Mis^ 


DANIEL    BOONE.  131 

souri,  and,  proceeding  about  fifty  miles  above  St. 
Louis,  settled  in  what  is  now  St.  Charles  oounty. 

Here  everything  pleased  Boone.  The  country, 
as  you  know,  was  then  in  the  possession  of  the 
French  and  Spanish,  and  the  old  laws  by  which 
their  territories  were  governed  were  still  in  force 
there.  They  had  no  constitution,  no  king,  no 
legislature,  no  judges,  lawyers,  or  sherifTs.  An 
officer  called  the  commandant,  and  the  priests,  ex- 
ercised all  the  authority  that  was  needed.  The 
horses,  cattle,  flocks,  and  herds  of  these  people  all 
grazed  together  upon  the  same  commons  ;  in  fact, 
they  were  living  here  almost  in  primitive  sim- 
plicity. Boone's  character  for  honesty  and  cour- 
age soon  became  known  among  them,  and  he  was 
appointed  by  the  Spanish  commandant  the  com- 
mandant over  the  district  of  St.  Charles. 

Boone  now  had  the  satisfaction  of  settling  all 
his  children  comfortably  around  him,  and  in  the 
unbroken  wilderness  his  hunting  and  trapping  was 
unmolested.  In  his  office  of  commandant  he  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  every  one,  and  continued 
to  occupy  it  until  Missouri  was  purchased  by 
our  government  from  the  French.  When  that 
purchase  was  made,  American  enterprise  soon 
came  upon  him  again — he  was  once  more  crowd- 
ed by  his  fellow-men.  His  old  office  of  command- 
ant was  soon  merged  in  the  new  order  of  things 
— his  hunting-grounds  were    invaded  by  others. 


132  THE    ADVENTIJRES    OF 

Nothing  remained  for  him  now,  but  to  submit  to  his 
fate  ;  he  was  too  old  to  move  aga^n,  nor  indeed  did 
he  know  where  to  go.  He  continued  his  old  hab- 
its, as  well  he  might.  He  would  start  out  with  his 
rifle,  now  marked  with  a  paper  sight  to  guide  his 
dim  eye,  and  be  absent  from  his  home  for  weeks. 
Nearly  eighty  years  had  passed  over  him,  yet  he 
would  lie  in  wait  near  the  salt-licks,  and  bring 
down  his  buflalo  or  his  deer,  and  as  bravely  and 
cheerily  as  in  his  younger  days,  would  he  cut  down 
bee-trees.  As  the  light-hearted  Frenchmen  swept 
up  the  river  in  their  fleets  of  periogues  on  their 
hunting  excursions,  Boone  would  cheer  them  as 
they  passed,  and  sigh  for  his  younger  days  that 
he  might  join  their  parties.  He  was  a  complete 
Nimrod,  now  almost  worn  out. 

It  was  while  he  was  living  here,  I  think,  that 
he  was  met  by  that  very  interesting  man,  Mr.  Au- 
dubon, the  natural  historian  of  our  continent.  He 
was  struck  with  the  man,  and  has  given  the 
story  of  his  interview  with  Boone.  It  is  so  illus- 
trative of  the  charactor  of  the  hunter,  that  I  give 
it  to  you  in  Mr.  Audubon's  words. 

"  Daniel  Boone,-  or  as  he  was  usually  called  in 
the  western  country.  Colonel  Boone,  happened  to 
spend  a  night  under  the  same  roof  with  me,  more 
than  twenty  years  ago.  We  had  returned  from  a 
shooting  excursion,  in  the  course  of  which  his 
extraordinary  skill   in  the  manacrement  of  a  rifle 


DANIEL    BOONE.  133 

had  been  fully  displayed.  On  retiring  to  the  room 
appropriated  to  that  remarkable  individual  and  my- 
self for  the  night,  I  felt  anxious  to  know  more  of 
his  exploits  and  adventures  than  I  did,  and  accord- 
ingly took  the  liberty  of  proposing  numerous  ques- 
tions to  him.  The  stature  and  general  appear- 
ance of  this  wanderer  of  the  western  forests,  ap- 
proached the  gigantic.  His  chest  was  broad  and 
prominent ;  his  muscular  powers  displayed  them- 
selves in  every  limb  ;  his  countenance  gave  indi- 
cation of  his  great  courage,  enterprise,  and  perse- 
verance ;  and  when  he  spoke,  the  very  motion  of 
his  lips  brought  the  impression,  that  whatever  he 
uttered  could  not  be  otherwise  than  strictly  true. 
1  undressed,  while  he  merely  took  off  his  hunting 
shirt,  and  arranged  a  few  folds  of  blankets  on  the 
floor  ;  choosing  rather  to  lie  there,  as  he  observed, 
than  on  the  softest  bed.  When  we  had  both  dis- 
posed of  ourselves,  each  after  his  own  fashion,  he 
related  to  me  the  following  account  of  his  powers 
of  memory,  which  I  lay  before  you,  kind  reader, 
in  his  own  words,  hoping  that  the  simplicity  of  his 
style  may  prove  interesting  to  you. 

"  I  was  once,"  said  he,  "  on  a  hunting  expedi- 
tion on  the  banks  of  the  Green  river,  when  the 
lower  parts  of  this  (Kentucky)  were  still  in  the 
hands  of  nature,  and  none  but  the  sons  of  the  soil 
were  looked  upon  as  its  lawful  proprietors.  We 
Virginians  had  for  soine  time  been  waging  a  war 
12 


134  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

of  intrusion  upon  them,  and  I,  among  the  rest,  ram' 
bled  through  the  woods,  in  pursuit  of  their  race, 
as  I  now  would  follow  the  tracks  of  any  ravenous 
animal.  The  Indians  outwitted  me  one  darknight^ 
and  I  was  as  unexpectedly  as  suddenly  made  a  pris- 
oner by  them.  The  trick  had  been  managed  with 
great  skill ;  for  no  sooner  had  I  extinguished  the 
fire  of  my  camp,  and  laid  me  down  to  rest,  in  full 
security,  as  I  thought,  than  I  felt  myself  seized  by 
an  indistinguishable  number  of  hands,  and  was 
immediately  pinioned,  as  if  about  to  be  led  to  the 
scaffold  for  execution.  To  have  attempted  to  be 
refractory,  would  have  proved  useless  and  danger- 
ous to  my  life  ;  and  I  suffered  myself  to  be  re- 
moved from  my  camp  to  theirs,  a  few  miles  dis- 
tant, without  uttering  even  a  word  of  complaint. 
You  are  aware,  I  dare  say,  that  to  act  in  this  man- 
ner, was  the  best  policy,  as  you  understand  that 
by  so  doing,  I  proved  to  the  Indians  at  once,  that 
I  was  born  and  bred  as  fearless  of  death  as  any 
of  themselves. 

"  When  we  reached  the  camp,  great  rejoicings 
were  exhibited.  Two  squaws,  and  a  few  pap 
ooses,  appeared  particularly  delighted  at  the  sight 
of  me,  and  I  was  assured,  by  very  unequivocal 
gestures  and  words,  that,  on  the  morrow,  the  mor- 
tal enemy  of  the  red-skins  would  cease  to  live.  I 
never  opened  my  lips,  but  was  busy  contriving 
some  scheme  which  might  enable  me  to  give  the 


DANIEL    BOON'E  135 

rascals  the  slip  before  dawn.  The  women  imme- 
diately fell  a  searching  about  my  hunting-shirt  for 
whatever  they  might  think  valuable,  and  fortunately 
for  me,  soon  found  my  flask,  filled  with  Mononga- 
Itela  (that  is,  reader,  strong  whiskey).  A  terrific 
grin  was  exhibited  on  their  murderous  counten- 
ances, while  my  heart  throbbed  with  joy  at  the 
anticipation  of  their  intoxication.  The  crew  im- 
mediately began  to  beat  their  bellies  and  sing,  as 
they  passed  the  bottle  from  mouth  to  mouth.  How 
often  did  I  wish  the  flask  ten  times  its  size,  and 
filled  with  aquafortis  !  I  observed  that  the  squaws 
drank  more  freely  than  the  warriors,  and  again 
my  spirits  were  about  to  be  depressed,  when 
the  report  of  a  gun  was  heard  at  a  distance. 
The  Indians  all  jumped  on  their  feet.  The 
singing  and  drinking  were  both  brought  to  a 
stand  ;  and  I  saw  with  inexpressible  joy,  the  men 
walk  off  to  some  distance,  and  talk  to  the  squaws. 
I  knew  that  they  were  consulting  about  me,  and  I 
foresaw,  that  in  a  few  moments  the  warriors  would 
go  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  gun  having  been 
fired  so  near  their  camp.  I  expected  the  squaws 
would  be  left  to  guard  me.  Well,  sir,  it  was  just 
so  They  returned  ;  the  men  took  up  their  guns 
and  walked  away.  The  squaws  sat  down  again, 
and  in  less  than  five  minutes  they  had  my  bottle 
up  to  their  dirty  mouths,  gurgling  down  thei^ 
throats  tho  remains  of  the  whiskey. 


136  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  With  what  pleasure  did  I  see  them  becoming 
more  and  more  drunk,  until  the  liquor  took  such 
hold  of  them  that  it  was  quite  impossible  for  these 
women  to  be  of  any  service.  They  tumbled  down, 
rolled  about,  and  began  to  snore  ;  when  I,  having 
no  other  chance  of  freeing  myself  from  the  cords 
that  fastened  me,  rolled  over  and  over,  toward  the 
fire,  and  after  a  short  time  burned  them  asunder. 
I  rose  on  my  feet ;  stretched  my  stiffened  sinews  ; 
snatched  up  my  rifle,  and,  for  once  in  my  life, 
spared  that  of  Indians.  I  now  recollect  how  de- 
sirous I  once  or  twice  felt  to  lay  open  the  sculls 
of  the  wretches  with  my  tomahawk  ;  but  when  I 
again  thought  upon  killing  beings  unprepared  and 
unable  to  defend  themselves,  it  looked  like  murder 
without  need,  and  I  gave  up  the  idea. 

"  But,  sir,  I  felt  determined  to  m,ark  the  spot, 
and  walking  to  a  thrifty  ash  sapling,  I  cut  out  of 
it  three  large  chips,  and  ran  off.  I  soon  reached 
the  river ;  soon  crossed  it,  and  threw  myself  deep 
into  the  canebrakes,  imitating  the  tracks  of  an  In- 
dian with  my  feet,  so  that  no  chance  might  be  left 
for  those  from  whom  I  had  escaped  to  overtake 
me. 

"  It  is  now  nearly  twenty  years  since  this  hap- 
pened, and  more  than  five  since  I  left  the  whites' 
settlements,  which  I  might  probably  never  have 
visited  again,  had  I  not  been  called  on  as  a  wit- 
ness in  a  lawsuit  that  was  pending  in  Kentucky 


DANIEL    BOONE.  137 

and  which,  1  really  believe,  would  never  have  been 
settled,  had  I  not  come  forward,  and  established 
the  beginning  of  a  certain  boundary  line.  This 
is  the  story,  sir. 

"  Mr. ■  moved  from  old  Virginia  into  Ken- 
tucky, and  having  a  large  tract  granted" to  him  in 
the  new  state,  laid  claim  to  a  certain  parcel  of  land 
adjoining  Green  river,  and  as  chance  would  have 
it,  he  took  for  one  of  his  corners  the  very  ash  tree 
on  which  I  had  made  my  mark,  and  finished  his 
survey  of  some  thousands  of  acres,  beginning,  as 
it  is  expressed  in  the  deed,  '  at  an  ash  marked  by 
three  distinct  notches  of  the  tomahawk  of  a  white 
man.' 

"  The  tree  had  grown  much,  and  the  bark  had 
covered  the  marks ;  but,  some  how  or  other,  Mr. 

heard  from  some  one  all  that  I  have  already 

said  to  you,  and  thinking  that  I  might  remember 
the  spot  alluded  to  in  the  deed,  but  which  was  no 
longer  discoverable,  wrote  for  me  to  come  and  try 
at  least  to  find  the  place  on  the  tree.  His  letter 
mentioned,  that  all  my  expenses  should  be  paid  ; 
and  not  caring  much  about  once  more  going  back 

to  Kentucky,  I  started  and  met  Mr. .     After 

some  conversation,  the  aff*air  with  the  Indians 
came  to  my  recollection.  I  considered  for  a  while, 
and  began  to  think  that  after  all,  I  could  find  the 
very  spot,  as  well  as  the  tree,  if  it  was  yet  stand 
mg. 

12* 


138  THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Mr.  — —  and  I  mounted  our  horses,  and  off 
we  went  to  the  Green  river  bottoms.  After  some 
difficuhies,  for  you  must  be  aware,  sir,  that  great 
changes  had  taken  place  in  these  woods,  I  found 
at  last  the  spot  where  I  had  crossed  the  river,  and 
waiting  for  the  moon  to  rise,  made  for  the  course 
in  which  I  thought  the  ash  tree  grew.  On  ap- 
proaching the  place,  I  felt  as  if  the  Indians  were 
there  still,  and  as  if  I  was  still  a  prisoner  among 
them.  Mr. and  I  camped  near  what  I  con- 
ceived the  spot,  and  waited  till  the  return  of  day. 

"  At  the  rising  of  the  sun  I  was  on  foot,  and 
after  a  good  deal  of  musing,  thought  that  an  ash 
tfee  then  in  sight  must  be  the  very  one  on  which 
I  had  made  my  mark.  I  felt  as  if  there  could  be 
no  doubt  of  it,  and  mentioned  my  thought  to  Mr. 

.     '  Well,  Colonel  Boone,'   said  he,  '  if  you 

think  so,  I  hope  it  may  prove  true,  but  we  must 
have  some  witnesses  ;  do  you  stay  hereabout,  and 
I  will  go  and  bring  some  of  the  settlers  whom  I 

know.'     I  agreed.     Mr. trotted  off,  and  I,  to 

pass  the  time,  rambled  about  to  see  if  a  deer  was 
siill  living  in  the  land.  But  ah  !  sir,  what  a  won- 
derful difference  thirty  years  make  in  the  country  ! 
Why,  at  the  time  when  I  was  caught  by  the  In- 
dians, you  would  not  have  walked  out  in  any  di- 
rection for  more  than  a  mile  without  shooting  a 
buck  or  a  bear.  There  were  ten  thousands  of  buf- 
faloes on  the  hills  in  Kentucky ;  the  land  looked 


DANIEL    BOONE.  139 

as  if  it  would  never  become  poor;  and  to  hunt  in 
those  days  was  a  pleasure  indeed.  But  when  1 
was  left  to  myself  on  the  banks  of  the  Green  riv- 
er,  I  dare  say  for  the  last  time  in  my  life,  a  few 
signs  only  of  deer  were  to  be  seen,  and  as  to  a 
deer  itself,  I  saw  none. 

"  Mr. returned,  accompanied  by  three  gen- 
tlemen. They  looked  upon  me  as  if  I  had  been 
Washington  himself,  and  walked  to  the  ash  tree 
which  I  now  called  my  own,  as  if  in  quest  of  a 
long  lost  treasure.  I  took  an  axe  from  one  of 
them  and  cut  a  few  chips  off  the  bark.  Still  no 
signs  were  to  be  seen.  So  I  cut  again,  until  I 
thought  it  time  to  be  cautious,  and  I  scraped  and 
worked  away  with  my  butcher  knife,  until  I  did 
come  to  where  my  tomahawk  had  left  an  impres- 
sion in  the  wood.  We  now  went  regularly  to 
work,  and  scraped  at  the  tree  with  care,  until  three 
hacks,  as  plain  as  any  three  notches  ever  were, 
could  be  seen.  Mr. and  the  other  gentle- 
men were  astonished,  and,  I  must  allow,  I  was  as 
much  surprised  as  pleased,  myself.  I  made  affi- 
davit of  this  remarkable  occurrence  in  the  presence 

of  these  gentlemen.     Mr. gained  his  cause. 

I  left  Green  river,  for  ever,  and  came  to  where 
we  now  are  ;  and,  sir,  I  wish  you  a  good  night." 

Here,  too,  it  was  that  he  resided,  when  Mr.  As- 
tor  attempted  to  carry  out  his  magnificent  design, 
of  settling  Astoria  on  the  western  coast  of  our 


140  THE    ADVExXTURES    OF 

continent,' and  belting  the  earth  with  his  com 
merce.  When  you  are  older,  you  can  read  the 
beautiful  history  of  that  attempt,  written  by  our 
distinguished  countryman  Mr.  Irving.  As  the  par- 
ty, bound  for  the  far  west,  moved  up  the  Missouri, 
Boone  stood  upon  the  banks  of  the  stream,  looking 
anxiously  after  them.  It  was  just  the  adventure 
to  please  him.  There  the  old  man  stood,  leaning 
upon  his  rifle,  his  dim  eye  lighted  up  as  he  gazed 
upon  them,  and  his  heart  heavy  with  sorrow,  be- 
cause he  was  too  old  to  press  with  them,  beyond 
the  mountains.* 

Other  sorrows  than  those  of  age,  now  crept  up- 
on him.  His  wife,  who  had  been  to  him  all  that 
was  good,  was  now  taken  from  him,  and  the  old 
man  was  left  widowed.  With  a  sad  heart  he  now 
went  to  the  home  of  his  son,  Major  Nathan  Boone. 

The  last  war  with  England  now  broke  out,  too, 
and  penetrated  even  the  wilds  of  Missouri.  It 
was  the  worst  of  all  warfare — the  savages  were 
let  loose  upon  them.  Boone  was  too  old  to  act 
the  part  of  a  soldier,  but  he  sent  off  many  substi- 
tutes in  his  sons. 

When  peace  returned,  the  spirit  of  the  old  man 
rallied  ;  his  ruling  passion  was  still  with  him. 
The  woods  were  again  his  home,  his  rifle  his  com- 
panion ;  and  thus  he  lived  on,  through  a  vigorous 
old  age,  with  a  passion  as  strong  as  ever,  a  hunter 

*  See  Irv^in£?'s  Astoria. 


DANIEL    BOONE.  141 

almost  to  the  very  day  of  his  death.  For  when,  in 
1818,  death  came  upon  him,  he  had  but  little  no- 
tice of  its  approach.  With  no  disease  but  old  age. 
which  had  seemed  comparatively  vigorous  almost 
to  the  day  of  his  departure,  he  died  in  his  eighty- 
fourth  year.  His  mind  was  unclouded  and  he 
passed  from  this  world  calmly  and  quietly. 

I  have  but  one  thing  more  to  say.  You  remem- 
ber Daniel  Boone's  schoolboy  days,  of  which  I 
have  spoken.  He  left  school  a  perfectly  ignorant 
lad.  Some  say  that  he  afterward  learned  to  write, 
and  produce  as  an  evidence,  a  little  narrative  of  his 
wanderings  in  Kentucky,  supposed  to  be  written 
by  himself.  I  believe,  however,  that  to  the  day  of 
his  death,  he  could  not  write  his  name.  The  narra- 
tive spoken  of,  was,  I  think,  dictated  in  some  de- 
gree by  him,  and  written  by  another.  At  all  events, 
the  story  is  interesting  and  curious,  and,  as  such, 
i  have  placed  it  for  your  benefit,  as  an  appendix  to 
this  volume 


APPENDIX. 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  COLONEL  DANIEL  BOONE, 

FORMERLY   A   HUNTER  ; 

CONTAINING  A  NARRATIVE  OF  THE  WARS  OF  KENTUCKT, 

AS    GIVEN    BY    HIMSELF. 


URIOSITY  is  natural  to  the 
soul  of  man,  and  interesting 
objects  have  a  powerful  influ- 
ence on  our  affections.     Let 
these  influencing  powers  ac- 
tuate, by  the  permission   or 
disposal  of  Providence,  from 
selfish  or  social  views,  yet  in 
/iTK/'^^r  ^^^^  ^^^  mysterious  will  of  Heaven 
r  |XD  ^\^  is  unfolded,  and  Ave  behold  our  con- 
duct, from  whatsoever  motives  ex- 
cited, operating  to  answer  the  im- 
^\        portant  designs  of  Heaven.     Thus 
we  behold  Kentucky,  lately  a  howling 
wilderness,  the  habitation   of  savages 
and  wild  beasts,  become  a  fruitful  field ; 
this  region,  so  favorably  distinguished  by  naturoj 


144  APPENDIX. 

now  become  the  habitation  of  civilization,  at  a  pe- 
riod unparalleled  in  history,  in  the  midst  of  a 
raging  war,  and  under  all  the  disadvantages  of 
emigration  to  a  country  so  remote  from  the  inhab- 
ited parts  of  the  continent.  Here,  where  the  hand 
of  violence  shed  the  blood  of  the  innocent ;  where 
the  horrid  yells  of  savages  and  the  groans  of 
the  distressed  sounded  in  our  ears,  we  now  hear 
the  praises  and  adorations  of  our  Creator  ;  where 
wretched  wigwams  stood,  the  miserable  abodes 
of  savages,  we  behold  the  foundations  of  cities 
laid,  that,  in  all  probability,  will  equal  the  glory 
of  the  greatest  upon  earth.  And  we  view  Ken- 
tucky, situated  on  the  fertile  bank's  of  the  great 
Ohio,  rising  from  obscurity  to  shine  with  splendor, 
equal  to  any  other  of  the  stars  of  the  American 
hemisphere. 

The  settling  of  this  region  well  deserves  a  place 
in  history.  Most  of  the  memorable  events  I  have 
myself  been  exercised  in  ;  and,  for  the  satisfaction 
of  the  public,  will  briefly  relate  the  circumstances 
of  my  adventures,  and  scenes  of  life,  from  my  first 
movement  to  this  country  until  this  day. 

It  was  on  the  first  of  May,  in  the  year  1769, 
that  I  resigned  my  domestic  happiness  for  a  time, 
and  left  my  family  and  peaceable  habitartion  on 
the  Yadkin  river,  in  North  Carolina,  to  wander 
through  the  wilderness  of  America,  in  quest  of 
the  country  of  Kentucky,  in  company  with  John 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    DANIEL    BOONE.       145 

Finley,  John  Stewart,  Joseph  Holden,  James  Mo- 
nay,  and  William  Cool.  We  proceeded  success- 
fully, and  after  a  long  and  fatiguing  journey  through 
a  mountainous  wilderness,  in  a  westward  direc- 
tion, on  the  7th  day  of  June  following  we  found 
ourselves  on  Red  river,  where  John  Finley  had 
formerly  been  trading  with  the  Indians,  and,  from 
the  top  of  an  eminence,  saw  with  pleasure  the 
beautiful  level  of  Kentucky.  Here  let  me  observe 
that  for  some  time  we  had  experienced  the  most 
uncomfortable  weather,  as  a  prelibation  of  our  fu- 
ture sufferings.  At  this  place  we  encamped,  and 
made  a  shelter  to  defend  us  from  the  inclement 
season,  and  began  to  hunt  and  reconnoitre  the 
country.  We  found  everywhere  abundance  of 
wild  beasts  of  all  sorts,  through  this  vast  forest. 
The  buffalo  were  more  frequent  than  I  have  seen 
cattle  in  the  settlements,  browsing  on  the  leaves 
of  the  cane,  or  cropping  the  herbage  on  those  ex- 
tensive plains,  fearless,  because  ignorant,  of  the 
violence  of  man.  Sometimes  we  saw  hundreds 
in  a  drove,  and  the  numbers  about  the  salt  springs 
were  amazing.  In  this  forest,  the  habitation  of 
beasts  of  every  kind  natural  to  America,  we  prac- 
tised hunting  with  great  success  until  the  22d  day 
of  December  following. 

This  day  John  -Stewart  and  I  had  a  pleasing 
ramble,  but  fortune  changed  the  scene  in  the  close 
of  it.     We  had  passed  through  a  great  forest,  on 
13 


146  APPENDIX. 

which  stood  myriads  of  trees,  some  gay  with  blos- 
soms, and  others  rich  with  fruits.  Nature  was 
here  a  series  of  wonders,  and  a  fund  of  delight. 
Here  she  displayed  her  ingenuity  and  industry  in 
a  variety  of  flowers  and  fruits,  beautifully  colored^ 
elegantly  shaped,  and  charmingly  flavored  ;  and  we 
were  diverted  with  innumerable  animals  present- 
ing themselves  perpetually  to  our  view.  In  the 
decline  of  the  day,  near  Kentucky  river,  as  we 
ascended  the  brow  of  a  small  hill,  a  number  of 
Indians  rushed  out  of  a  thick  canebrake  upon  us, 
and  made  us  prisoners.  The  time  of  our  sorrow 
was  now  arrived,  and  the  scene  fully  opened. 
The  Indians  plundered  us  of  what  we  had,  and 
kept  us  in  confinement  seven  days,  treating  us 
with  common  savage  usage.  During  this  time  we 
discovered  no  uneasiness  or  desire  to  escape, 
.which  made  them  less  suspicious  of  us  ;  but  in 
the  dead  of  night,  as  we  lay  in  a  thick  canebrake 
by  a  large  fire,  when  sleep  had  locked  up  their 
senses,  my  situation  not  disposing  me  for  rest,  I 
touched  my  companion,  and  gently  awoke  him. 
We  improved  this  favorable  opportunity,  and  de- 
parted, leaving  them  to  take  their  rest,  and  speedily 
directed  our  course  toward  our  old  camp,  but  found 
it  plundered,  and  the  company  dispersed  and  gone 
home.  About  this  time  my  brother,  Squire  Boone, 
with  another  adventurer,  who  came  to  explore  the 
country  shortly  after  us,  was  wandering  through 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    DANIEL    BOONE.        14^ 

the  forest,  determined  to  find  me  if  possible,  and 
accidentally  found  our  camp.  Notwithstanding 
the  unfortunate  circumstances  of  our  company,  and 
our  dangerous  situation,  as  surrounded  with  hos- 
tile savages,  our  meeting  so  fortunately  in  the 
wilderness  made  us  reciprocally  sensible  of  the 
utmost  satisfaction.  So  much  does  friendship  tri- 
umph over  misfortune,  that  sorrows  and  sufferings 
vanish  at  the  meeting  not  only  of  real  friends,  but 
of  the  most  distant  acquaintances,  and  substitute 
happiness  in  their  room. 

Soon  after  this,  my  companion  in  captivity,  John 
Stewart,  was  killed  by  the  savages,  and  the  man 
that  came  with  my  brother  returned  home  by  him- 
self. We  were  then  in  a  dangerous,  helpless  sit- 
uation, exposed  daily  to  perils  and  death  among 
savages  and  wild  beasts — not  a  white  man  in  tlffe 
country  but  ourselves. 

Thus  situated,  many  hundred  miles  from  our 
families  in  the  howling  wilderness,  I  believe  few 
would  have  equally  enjoyed  the  happiness  we  ex- 
perienced. I  often  observed  to  my  brother,  "  You 
see  now  how  little  nature  requires,  to  be  satisfied. 
Felicity,  the  companion  of  content,  is  rather  found 
in  our  own  breasts  than  in  the  enjoyment  of  ex- 
ternal things  ;  and  I  firmly  believe  it  requires  but 
a  little  philosophy  to  make  a  man  happy  in  what- 
soever state  he  is.  This  consists  in  a  full  resig- 
nation to  the  will  of  Providence  ;  and  a  resigned 


148  APPENDIX. 

soul  finds  pleasure  in  a  path  strewed  with  briers 
and  thorns." 

We  continued  not  in  a  state  of  indolence,  but 
hunted  every  day,  and  prepared  a  little  cottage  to 
defend  us  from  the  winter  storms.  We  remained 
there  undisturbed  during  the  winter ;  and  on  the 
i  St  day  of  May,  ]  770,  my  brother  returned  home 
to  the  settlement  by  himself,  for  a  new  recruit  of 
horses  and  ammunition,  leaving  me  by  myself, 
without  bread,  salt,  or  sugar,  without  company  of 
my  fellow-creatures,  or  even  a  horse  or  dog.  I 
confess  I  never  before  was  under  greater  neces- 
sity of  exercising  philosophy  and  fortitude.  A 
few  days  I  passed  uncomfortably.  The  idea  of  a 
beloved  wife  and  family,  and  their  anxiety  upon 
the  account  of  my  absence  and  exposed  situation, 
nfade  sensible  impressions  on  my  heart.  A  thou- 
,  sand  dreadful  apprehensions  presented  themselves 
to  my  view,  and  had  undoubtedly  disposed  me  to 
melancholy,  if  further  indulged. 

One  day  I  undertook  a  tour  through  the  country, 
and  the  diversity  and  beauties  of  nature  I  met 
with  in  this  charming  season,  expelled  every 
gloomy  and  vexatious  thought.  Just  at  the  close 
of  day  the  gentle  gales  retired,  and  left  the  place 
to  the  disposal  of  a  profound  calm.  Not  a  breeze 
shook  the  most  tremulous  leaf.  I  had  gained  the 
summit  of  a  commanding  ridge,  and,  looking  round 
with  astonishing  delight,  beheld  the  ample  plains. 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    DANIEL    BOONE.       HO 

the  beauteous  tracts  below.  On  the  other  hand, 
I  surveyed  the  famous  river  Ohio  that  rolled  in 
silent  dignity,  marking  the  western  boundary  of 
Kentucky  with  inconceivable  grandeur.  At  a  vast 
distance  I  beheld  the  mountains  lift  their  venera- 
ble brows,  and  penetrate  the  clouds.  All  things 
were  still.  I  kindled  a  fire  near  a  fountain  of 
sweet  water,  and  feasted  on  the  loin  of  a  buck, 
which  a  few  hours  before  I  had  killed.  The  sul- 
len shades  of  night  soon  overspread  the  whole 
hemisphere,  and  the  earth  seemed  to  gasp  after 
the  hovering  moisture.  My  roving  excursion  this 
day  had  fatigued  my  body,  and  diverted  my  im- 
agination. I  laid  me  down  to  sleep,  and  I  awoke 
not  until  the  sun  had  chased  away  the  night.  I 
continued  this  tour,  and  in  a  few  days  explored  a 
considerable  part  of  the  country,  each  day  equally 
pleased  as  the  first.  I  returned  again  to  my  old 
camp,  which  was  not  disturbed  in  my  absence 
I  did  not  confine  my  lodging  to  it,  but  often  reposed 
in  thick  canebrakes,  to  avoid  the  savages,  who,  I 
believe,  often  visited  ray  camp,  but,  fortunately  for 
me,  in  my  absence.  In  this  situation  I  was  con- 
stantly exposed  to  danger  and  death.  How  un- 
happy such  a  situation  for  a  man  tormented  with 
fear,  which  is  vain  if  no  danger  comes,  and  if  it 
does,  only  augments  the  pain  !  It  was  my  happi- 
ness to  be  destitute  of  this  afllicting  f  tassion,  with 
which  I  had  the  greatest  reason  to  be  affected. 
13* 


150  APPENDIX. 

The  prowling  wolves  diverted  my  nocturnal  hours 
with  perpetual  howlings  ;  and  the  various  species 
of  animals  in  this  vast  forest,  in  the  daytime,  were 
continually  in  my  view. 

Thus  I  was  surrounded  by  plenty  in  the  midst 
of  want.  1  was  happy  in  the  midst  of  danger& 
and  inconveniences.  In  such  a  diversity,  it  was 
impossible  I  should  be  disposed  to  melancholy. 
No  populous  city,  with  all  the  varieties  of  com- 
merce and  stately  structures,  could  afford  so  much 
pleasure  to  my  mind  as  the  beauties  of  nature  I 
found  here. 

Thus,  through  an  uninterrupted  scene  of  sylvan 
pleasures,  I  spent  the  time  until  the  27th  day  of 
July  following,  when  my  brother,  to  my  great  fe- 
licity, met  me,  according  to  appointment,  at  our 
old  camp.  Shortly  after,  we  left  this  place,  not 
thinking  it  safe  to  stay  there  longer,  and  proceeded 
to  Cumberland  river,  reconnoitring  that  part  of  the 
country  until  March,  1771,  and  giving  names  to 
the  different  waters. 

Soon  after,  I  returned  home  to  my  family,  with 
a  determination  to  bring  them  as  soon  as  possible 
to  live  in  Kentucky,  wdiich  I  esteemed  a  second 
paradise,  at  the  risk  of  my  life  and  fortune. 

I  returned  safe  to  my  old  habitation,  and  found 
my  family  in  happy  circumstances.  I  sold  my 
farm  on  the  Yadkin,  and  what  goods  we  could  not 
carry  with  us  ;  and  on  the  25th  day  of  September, 


THE  ADVENTURRS  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.   .151 

1773,  bade  a  farewell  to  our  friends,  and  proceed* 
ed  on  our  journey  to  Kentucky,  in  company  with 
five  families  more,  and  forty  men  that  joined  us  in 
Powel's  Valley,  which  is  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  from  the  now  settled  parts  of  Kentucky, 
This  promising  beginning  was  soon  overcast  with 
a  cloud  of  adversity  ;  for,  upon  the  1 0th  day  of 
October,  the  rear  of  our  company  was  attacked 
by  a  number  of  Indians,  who  killed  six,  and 
vounded  one  m.an.  Of  these,  my  eldest  son  was 
one  that  fell  in  the  action.  Though  we  defended 
ourselves,  and  repulsed  the  enemy,  yet  this  un- 
happy affair  scattered  our  cattle,  brought  us  into 
extreme  difficulty,  and  so  discouraged  the  whole 
company,  that  we  retreated  forty  miles,  to  the  set- 
tlement on  Clinch  river.  We  had  passed  over 
two  mountains,  viz.,  PowePs  and  Walden's,  and 
were  approaching  Cumberland  mountain  when  this 
adverse  fortune  overtook  us.  These  mountains 
are  in  the  wilderness,  as  we  pass  from  the  old 
settlements  in  Virginia  to  Kentucky,  are  ranged 
in  a  southwest  and  northeast  direction,  are  of  a 
great  length  and  breadth,  and  not  far  distant  from 
each  other.  Over  these,  nature  hath  formed  pas- 
ses that  are  less  difficult  than  might  be  expected, 
from  a  view  of  such  huge  piles.  The  aspect  of 
these  cliffs  is  so  wild  and  horrid,  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  behold  them  without  terror.  The  specta- 
tor is  apt  to  imagine  that  nature  had  formerly  suf- 


152  APPENDIX. 

fered  some  violent  convulsion,  and  that  these  are 
the  dismembered  remains  of  the  dreadful  shock : 
the  ruins,  not  of  Persepolis  or  Palmyra,  but  of  the 
world  ! 

I  remained  with  my  family  on  Clinch  until  the 
6th  of  June,  1774,  when  I  and  one  Michael  Stoner 
were  solicited  by  Governor  Dunmore  of  Virginia 
to  go  to  the  falls  of  the  Ohio,  to  conduct  into  the 
settlement  a  number  of  surveyors  that  had  been 
sent  thither  by  him  some  months  before  ;  this  coun- 
try having  about  this  time  drawn  the  attention  of 
many  adventurers.  We  immediately  complied 
with  the  Governor's  request,  and  conducted  in  the 
surveyors — completing  a  tour  of  eight  hundred 
miles,  through  many  difficulties,  in  sixty-two 
days. 

Soon  after  I  returned  home,  I  was  ordered  to 
take  the  command  of  three  garrisons  during  the 
campaign  which  Governor  Dunmore  carried  on 
against  the  Shawanese  Indians  ;  after  the  conclu- 
sion of  which,  the  militia  was  discharged  from 
each  garrison,  and  I,  being  relieved  from  my  post, 
was  solicited  by  a  number  of  North  Carolina  gen- 
tlemen, that  were  about  purchasing  the  lands  lying 
on  the  south  side  of  Kentucky  river,  from  the 
Cherokee  Indians,  to  attend  their  treaty  at  Wataga 
in  March,  1775,  to  negotiate  with  them,  and  men 
tion  the  boundaries  of  the  purchase.  This  I  ac- 
cepted ;   and,  at  the  request  of  the  same  gentle 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    DANIEL    BOONE.       153 

men,  undertook  to  mark  out  a  road  in  the  best 
passage  from  tl^e  settlement  through  the  wilder- 
ness to  Kentucky,  with  such  assistance  as  I 
thought  necessary  to  employ  for  such  an  impor- 
tant undertaking. 

I  soon  began  this  work,  having  collected  a  num- 
ber of  enterprising  men,  well  armed.  We  pro- 
ceeded with  all  possible  expedition  until  we  came 
within  fifteen  miles  of  where  Boonesborough  now 
stands,  and  where  we  were  fired  upon  by  a  party 
of  Indians  that  killed  two,  and  wounded  two  of 
our  number  ;  yet,  although  surprised  and  taken  at 
a  disadvantage,  we  stood  our  ground.  This  was 
on  the  20th  of  March,  1775.  Three  days  after, 
we  were  fired  upon  again,  and  had  two  men  killed, 
and  three  wounded.  Afterward  we  proceeded  on 
to  Kentucky  river  without  opposition  ;  and  on  the 
1st  day  of  April  began  to  erect  the  fort  of  Boones- 
borough at  a  salt  lick,  about  sixty  yards  from  the 
river,  on  the  south  side. 

On  the  fourth  day,  the  Indians  killed  one  of  our 
men.  We  were  busily  employed  in  building  this 
fort  until  the  14th  day  of  June  following,  without 
any  further  opposition  from  the  Indians  ;  and  hav- 
ing finished  the  works,  I  returned  to  my  family,  on 
Clinch. 

In  a  short  time  I  proceeded  to  remove  my  family 
I'rom  Clinch  to  this  garrison,  where  we  arrived 
safe,  without  any  other  difficulties  than  such  as 


154  APPENDIX. 

are  common  to  this  passage ;  my  wife  and  daugh* 
ter  being  the  first  white  women  that  ever  stood  c  a 
the  baflks  of  Kentucky  river. 

On  the  24th  day  of  December  following,  we 
had  one  man  killed,  and  one  wounded,  by  the  In- 
dians, who  seemed  determined  to  persecute  us  for 
erecting  this  fortification. 

On  the  14th  day  of  July,  1776,  two  of  Colonel 
Calaway's  daughters,  and  one  of  mine,  were  taken 
prisoners  near  the  fort.  I  immediately  pursued 
the  Indians  with  only  eight  men,  and  on  the  16th 
overtook  them,  killed  two  of  the  party,  and  recov- 
ered the  girls.  The  same  day  on  which  this  at- 
tempt was  made,  the  Indians  divided  themselves 
into  different  parties,  and  attacked  several  forts, 
which  were  shortly  before  this  time  erected,  doing 
a  great  deal  of  mischief.  This  was  extremely 
distressing  to  the  new  settlers.  The  innocent 
husbandman  was  shot  down,  while  busy  in  culti- 
vating the  soil  for  his  family's  supply.  Most  of 
the  cattle  around  the  stations  were  destroyed. 
They  continued  their  hostilities  in  this  manner 
until  the  15th  of  April,  1777,  when  they  attacked 
Boonesborough  with  a  party  of  above  one  hundred 
in  number,  killed  one  man,  and  wounded  four. 
Their  loss  in  tliis  attack  was  not  certainly  known 
to  us. 

On  the  4th  day  of  July  following,  a  party  of 
Rbout  two  hundred   Indians  attacked   Boonesbo 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.   155 

rough,  killed  one  man,  and  wounded  two.  They 
besieged  us  forty-eight  hours,  during  which  time 
seven  of  them  were  killed,  and,  at  last,  finding 
themselves  not  likely  to  prevail,  they  raised  the 
siege,  and  departed. 

The  Indians  had  disposed  their  warriors  in  dif- 
ferent parties  at  this  time,  and  attacked  the  dif- 
ferent garrisons,  to  prevent  their  assisting  each 
other,  and  did  much  injury  to  the  distressed  in- 
habitants. 

On  the  19th  day  of  this  month,  Colonel  Logan's 
fort  was  besieged  by  a  party  of  about  two  hundred 
Indians.  During  this  dreadful  siege  they  did  a 
great  deal  of  mischief,  distressed  the  garrison,  in 
which  were  only  fifteen  men,  killed  two,  and 
wounded  one.  The  enemy's  loss  was  uncertain, 
from  the  common  practice  which  the  Indians  have 
of  carrying  off  their  dead  in  time  of  battle. 
Colonel  Harrod's  fort  was  then  defended  by  only 
sixty-five  men,  and  Boonesborough  by  twenty-two, 
there  being  no  more  forts  or  white  men  in  the 
country,  except  at  the  Falls,  a  considerable  dis- 
tance from  these  :  and  all,  taken  collectively,  were 
but  a  handful  to  the  numerous  warriors  that  were 
everywhere  dispersed  through  the  country,  intent 
upon  doing  all  the  mischief  that  savage  barbarity 
could  invent.  Thus  we  passed  through  a  scene 
of  sufferings  that  exceeds  description. 

On  the  25th  of  this  month,  a  reinforcement  of 


fD6  APPENDIX. 

forty-five  men  arrived  from  Nortli  Carolina,  and 
about  the  20tli  of  August  following,  Colonel  Bow- 
man arrived  with  one  hundred  men  from  Virginia. 
Now  we  began  to  strengthen ;  and  hence,  for  the 
space  of  six  weeks,  we  had  skirmishes  with 
Indians,  in  one  quarter  or  other,  almost  every 
day. 

The  savages  now  learned  the  superiority  of  the 
Long  Knife,  as  they  call  the  Virginians,  by  expe- 
rience ;  being  outgeneralled  in  almost  every  battle. 
Our  affairs  began  to  wear  a  new  aspect,  and  the 
enemy,  not  daring  to  venture  on  open  war,  prac 
tised  secret  mischief  at  times. 

On  the  1st  day  of  January,  1778,  I  went  with 
a  party  of  thirty  men  to  the  Blue  Licks,  on  Lick- 
ing river,  to  make  salt  for  the  diflerent  garrisons 
in  the  country. 

On  the  7th  day  of  February,  as  I  was  hunting 
to  procure  meat  for  the  company,  I  met  with  a 
party  of  one  hundred  and  two  Indians,  and  two 
Frenchmen,  on  their  march  against  Boonesborough, 
that  place  being  particularly  the  object  of  the 
enemy. 

They  pursued,  and  took  me  ;  and  brought  me 
on  the  8th  day  to  the  Licks,  where  twenty-seven 
of  my  party  were,  three  of  them  having  previously 
returned  home  with  the  salt.  I,  knowing  it  was 
impossible  for  them  to  escape,  capitulated  with 
the    enemy,   and,  at    a    distance,  in   their  view, 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONf.   157 

gave  notice  to  my  men  of  their  situation,  v^^ith 
orders  not  to  resist,  buc  surrender  themselves 
captives. 

The  generous  usage  the  Indians  had  promised 
before  in  my  capitulation,  was  afterward  fully 
complied  with,  and  we  proceeded  with  them  as 
prisoners  to  Old  Chilicothe,  the  principal  Indian 
town  on  Little  Miami,  where  we  arrived,  after  an 
uncomfortable  journey  in  very  severe  weather,  on 
the  18th  day  of  February,  and  received  as  good 
treatment  as  prisoners  could  expect  from  savages. 
On  the  10th  day  of  March  following,  I  and  ten  of 
my  men  were  conducted  by  forty  Indians  to  De- 
troit, where  we  arrived  the  30th  day,  and  were 
treated  by  Governor  Hamilton,  the  British  com- 
mander at  that  post,  with  great  humanity. 

During  our  travels,  the  Indians  entertained  me 
well,  and  their  affection  for  me  was  so  great,  that 
they  utterly  refused  to  leave  me  there  with  the 
others,  although  the  Governor  offered  them  one 
hundred  pounds  sterling  for  me,  on  purpose  to  give 
me  a  parole  to  go  home.  Several  English  gen- 
tlemen there,  being  sensible  of  my  adverse  for- 
tune, and  touched  with  human  sympathy,  gener- 
ously offered  a  friendly  supply  for  my  wants, 
which  I  refused,  with  many  thanks  for  their  kind 
ness — adding,  thai  I  never  expected  it  would  be 
in  my  power  to  recompense  such  unmerited  gen- 
erosity. 

14 


158  APPENDIX. 

The  Indians  left  my  men  in  captivity  with  the 
British  at  Detroit,  and  on  the  10th  day  of  April 
brought  me  toward  Old  Chilicothe,  where  we  ar- 
rived on  the  25th  day  of  the  same  month.  This 
was  a  long  and  fatiguing  march,  through  an  ex- 
ceeding fertile  country,  remarkable  for  fine  springs 
and  streams  of  water.  At  Chilicothe  I  spent  my 
time  as  comfortably  as  I  could  expect ;  was  adopt- 
ed, according  to  their  custom,  into  a  family,  where 
I  became  a  son,  and  had  a  great  share  in  the  af- 
fection of  my  new  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  and 
friends.  I  was  exceedingly  familiar  and  friendly 
with  them,  always  appearing  as  cheerful  and  sat- 
isfied as  possible,  and  they  put  great  confidence  in 
me.  I  often  went  a  hunting  with  them,  and  fre- 
quently gained  their  applause  for  my  activity  at 
our  shooting-matches.  I  was  careful  not  to  ex- 
ceed many  of  them  in  shooting  ;  for  no  people  are 
more  envious  than  they  in  this  sport.  I  could 
observe,  in  their  countenances  and  gestures,  the 
greatest  expressions  of  joy  when  they  exceeded 
me ;  and,  when  the  reverse  happened,  of  envy. 
The  Shawanese  king  took  great  notice  of  me,  and 
treated  me  with  profound  respect  and  entire  friend- 
ship, often  intrusting  me  to  hunt  at  my  liberty.  I 
frequently  returned  with  the  spoils  of  the  woods, 
and  as  often  presented  some  of  what  I  had  taken 
to  him,  expressive  of  duty  to  my  sovereign.  My 
food  and  lodging  were  in  common  with  them ;  not 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    DANIEL    BOONE.       159 

SO  good,  indeed,  as  I  could  desire,  but  necessity 
made  everything  acceptable. 

I  now  began  to  meditate  an  escape,  and  care- 
fully avoided  their  suspicions,  continuing  with 
them  at  Old  Chilicothe  until  the  1st  day  of  June 
following,  and  then  was  taken  by  them  to  the  salt 
springs  on  Scioto,  and  kept  there  making  salt  ten 
days.  During  this  time  I  hunted  some  for  them, 
and  found  the  land,  for  a  great  extent  about  this 
river,  to  exceed  the  soil  of  Kentucky,  if  possible, 
and  remarkably  well  watered. 

When  I  returned  to  Chilicothe,  alarmed  to  see 
four  hundred  and  fifty  Indians,  of  their  choicest 
warriors,  painted  and  armed  in  a  fearful  manner, 
ready  to  march  against  Boonesborough,  I  deter- 
mined to  escape  the  first  opportunity. 

On  the  16th,  before  sunrise,  I  departed  in  the 
most  secret  manner,  and  arrived  at  Boonesbo- 
rough on  the  20th,  after  a  journey  of  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  miles,  during  which  I  had  but  one 
meal. 

I  found  our  fortress  in  a  bad  state  of  defence  ; 
but  we  proceeded  immediately  to  repair  our  flanks , 
strengthen  our  gates  and  posterns,  and  form  double 
bastions,  which  we  completed  in  ten  days.  In 
this  time  we  daily  expected  the  arrival  of  the  In- 
dian army ;  and  at  length,  one  of  my  fellow-pris- 
oners, escaping  from  them,  arrived,  informing  us 
that  the  enemy  had,  on  account  of  my  departure, 


160 


APPENDIX. 


postponed  their  expedition  ;liree  weeks.  The 
Indians  had  spies  out  viewing  our  movements,  and 
were  greatly  alarmed  with  our  increase  in  num- 
ber and  fortifications.  The  grand  councils  of  the 
nations  were  held  frequently,  and  with  more  de 
liberation  than  usual.  They  evidently  saw  the 
approaching  hour  when- the  Long  Knife  would 
dispossess  them  of  their  desirable  habitations ; 
and,  anxiously  concerned  for  futurity,  determined 
utterly  to  extirpate  the  whites  out  of  Kentucky. 
We  were  not  intimidated  by  their  movements,  but 
frequently  gave  them  proofs  of  our  courage. 

About  the  first  of  August,  I  made  an  incursion 
into  the  Indian  country  with  a  party  of  nineteen 
men,  in  order  to  surprise  a  small  town  up  Scioto, 
called  Paint  Creek  Town.  We  advanced  within 
four  miles  thereof,  where  we  met  a  party  of  thirty 
Indians  on  their  march  against  Boonesborough, 
intending  to  join  the  others  from  Chilicothe.  A 
smart  fight  ensued  between  us  for  some  time  ;  at 
length  the  savages  gave  way  and  fled.  We  had 
no  loss  on  our  side ;  the  enemy  had  one  killed 
and  two  Avounded.  We  took  from  them  three 
horses,  and  all  their  baggage  ;  and  being  informed, 
by  two  of  our  number  that  went  to  their  town  that 
the  Indians  had  entirely  evacuated  it,  we  proceed- 
ed no  further,  and  returned  with  all  possible  expe- 
dition to  assist  our  garrison  against  the  other 
party.     We  passed  by  them    on  the    sixth  day, 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    DANIEL    BOONE.        161 

and  on  the  seventh  we  arrived  safe  at  Boonesbo 
rough. 

On  the  8th,  the  Indian  army  arrived,  being  four 
hundred  and  forty-four  in  number,  commanded  by 
Captain  Duquesne,  eleven  other  Frenchmen,  and 
some  of  their  own  chiefs,  and  marched  up  within 
view  of  our  fort,  with  British  and  French  colors 
flying  ;  and  having  sent  a  summons  to  me,  in 
his  Britannic  Majesty's  name,  to  surrender  the 
fort,  1  requested  two  days'  consideration,  which 
was  granted. 

It  was  now  a  critical  period  with  us.  We  were 
a  small  number  in  the  garrison — a  powerful  army 
before  our  walls,  whose  appearance  proclaimed 
inevitable  death,  fearfully  painted,  and  marking 
their  footsteps  with  desolation.  Death  was  prefer- 
able to  captivity ;  and  if  taken  by  storm,  we  must 
inevitably  be  devoted  to  destruction.  In  this  situ- 
ation we  concluded  to  maintain  our  garrison,  if 
possible.  We  immediatdy  proceeded  to  collecl 
what  we  could  of  our  horses  and  other  cattle,  and 
bring  them  through  the  posterns  into  the  fort ;  and 
in  the  evening  of  the  9th,  I  returned  answer  that 
we  were  determined  to  defend  our  fort  while  a 
man  was  living.  "Now,"  said  I  to  their  com- 
mander, who  stood  attentively  hearing  my  senti- 
ments, "  we  laugh  at  your  formidable  preparations  ; 
but  thank  you  for  giving  us  notice  and  time  to 
provide  for  our  defence.  Your  efforts  will  not 
14* 


162  APPENDIX. 

prevail ;  for  our  gates  shall  for  ever  deny  you  ad- 
mittance." Whether  this  answer  affected  their 
courage  or  not  I  can  not  tell ;  but,  contrary  to  our 
expectations,  they  formed  a  scheme  to  deceive  us, 
declaring  it  was  their  orders,  from  Governor  Ham- 
ilton, to  take  us  captives,  and  not  to  destroy  us  ; 
but  if  nine  of  us  would  come  out,  and  treat  with 
them,  they  would  immediately  withdraw  their 
forces  from  our  walls,  and  return  home  peaceably. 
This  sounded  grateful  in  our  ears  ;  and  we  agreed 
to  the  proposal. 

We  held  the  treaty  within  sixty  yards  of  the 
garrison,  on  purpose  to  divert  them  from  a  breach 
of  honor,  as  w^e  could  not  avoid  suspicions  of  the 
savages.  In  this  situation  the  articles  were  for- 
mally agreed  to,  and  signed ;  and  the  Indians  told 
us  it  was  customary  with  them  on  such  occasions 
for  two  Indians  to  shake  hands  with  every  white 
man  in  the  treaty,  as  an  evidence  of  entire  friend- 
ship. We  agreed  to  this  also,  but  were  soon  con- 
vinced their  policy  was  to  take  us  prisoners. 
They  immediately  grappled  us  ;  but,  although  sur- 
rounded by  hundreds  of  savages,  we  extricated 
ourselves  from  them,  and  escaped  all  safe  into  the 
garrison,  except  one  that  was  wounded,  through  a 
heavy  fire  from  their  army.  They  immediately 
attacked  us  on  every  side,  and  a  constant  heavy 
fire  ensued  between  us,  day  and  night,  for  the 
space  of  nine  days. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE    163 

In  this  time  the  enemy  began  to  undermine  our 
fort,  which  was  situated  sixty  yards  from  Ken- 
tucky river.  They  began  at  the  water-mark,  and 
proceeded  in  the'  bank  some  distance,  which  we 
understood,  by  their  making  the  water  muddy  with 
the  clay  ;  and  we  immediately  proceeded  to  dis- 
appoint their  design,  by  cutting  a  trench  across 
their  subterranean  passage.  The  enemy,  discov- 
ering our  counter-mine,  by  the  clay  we  threw  out 
of  the  fort,  desisted  from  that  strataorem  :  and  ex- 
perience  now  fully  convincing  them  that  neither 
their  power  nor  policy  could  effect  their  purpose, 
on  the  20th  day  of  xVugust  they  raised  the  siege 
and  departed. 

During  this  siege,  Avhich  threatened  death  in 
•every  form,  we  had  two  men  killed,  and  four  wound- 
ed, besides  a  number  of  cattle.  We  killed  of  the 
enemy  thirty-seven,  and  wounded  a  great  number. 
After  they  were  gone,  we  picked  up  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  pounds  weight  of  bullets,  besides 
what  stuck  in  the  logs  of  our  fort,  which  certainly 
is  a  great  proof  of  their  industry.  Soon  after  this, 
I  went  into  the  settlement,  and  nothing  worthy  of 
a  place  in  this  account  passed  in  my  affairs  for 
some  time. 

During  my  absence  from  Kentucky,  Colonel 
Bowman  carried  on  an  expedition  against  the 
Shawanese,  at  Old  Chilicothe,  with  one  hundred 
and  sixty  men,  in  July,  1779.     Here  they  arrived 


164  APPENDIX. 

undiscovered,  and  a  battle  ensued,  which  lasted 
until  ten  o'clock,  A.  M.,  when  Colonel  Bowman, 
finding  he  could  not  succeed  at  this  time,  retreat- 
ed about  thirty  miles.  The  Indians,  in  the  mean 
time,  collecting  all  their  forces,  pursued  and  ovei- 
took  him,  w^hen  a  smart  fight  continued  near  two 
hours,  not  to  the  advantage  of  Colonel  Bowman's 
party. 

Colonel  Harrod  proposed  to  mount  a  number 
of  horse,  and  furiously  to  rush  upon  the  savages, 
who  at  this  time  fought  with  remarkable  fury. 
This  desperate  step  had  a  happy  effect,  broke 
their  line  of  battle,  and  the  savages  fled  on  all 
sides.  In  these  two  battles  we  had  nine  killed, 
and  one  wounded.  The  enemy's  loss  uncertain 
only  two  scalps  being  taken. 

On  the  22d  day  of  June,  1780,  a  large  party  of 
Indians  and  Canadians,  about  six  hundred  in  num- 
ber, commanded  by  Colonel  Bird,  attacked  Rid- 
dle's and  Martin's  stations,  at  .the  forks  of  Licking 
river,  with  six  pieces  of  artillery.  They  carried 
this  expedition  so  secretly,  that  the  unwary  inhab- 
itants did  not  discover  them  until  they  fired  upon 
the  forts  ;  and,  not  being  prepared  to  oppose  them, 
were  obliged  to  surrender  themselves  miserable 
captives  to  barbarous  savages,  who  immediately 
after  tomahawked  one  man  and  two  women,  and 
loaded  all  the  others  with  heavy  baggage,  forcing 
them  along  toward  their  towns,  able  or  unable  to 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.   165 

jiiarch.  Such  as  were  weak  and  faint  by  the  way, 
they  tomahawked.  The  tender  women  and  help- 
less children  fell  victims  to  their  cruelty.  This, 
and  the  savage  treatment  they  received  afterward, 
is  shocking  to  humanity,  and  too  barbarous  to 
relate. 

The  hostile  disposition  of  the  savages  and  then 
allies  caused  General  Clarke,  the  commandant  at 
the  Falls  of  the  Ohio,  immediately  to  begin  an  ex- 
pedition v/ith  his  own  regiment,  and  the  armed 
force  of  the  country,  against  Pecaway,  the  princi- 
pal town  of  the  Shawanese,  on  a  branch  of  Great 
Miami,  v.diich  he  finished  with  great  success,  took 
seventeen  scalps,  and  burnt  the  town  to  ashes, 
with  the  loss  of  seventeen  men. 

About  this  time  I  returned  to  Kentucky  with 
my  family ;  and  here,  to  avoid  an  inquiry  into  my 
conduct,  the  reader  being  before  informed  of  my 
bringing  my  family  to  Kentucky,  I  am  under  the 
necessity  of  informing  him  that,  during  my  cap- 
tivity with  the  Indians,  my  wife,  who  despaired 
of  ever  seeing  me  again — expecting  the  Indians 
had  put  a  period  to  my  life,  oppressed  wdth  the 
distresses  of  the  country,  and  bereaved  of  me,  her 
only  happiness — had,  before  I  returned,  transport- 
ed my  family  and  goods,  on  horses,  through  the 
wilderness,  amid  a  multitude  of  dangers,  to  her 
father's  house  in  North  Carolina. 

Shortly  after  the  troubles  at  Boonesborough,  I 


166  APPENDIX. 

went  to  them,  and  lived  peaceably  there  until  thia 
time.  The  history  of  my  going  home,  and  return- 
ing with  my  family,  forms  a  series  of  difficultieSj 
an  account  of  which  would  swell  a  volume  ;  and, 
being  foreig.n  to  my  purpose,  I  shall  purposely 
omit  them. 

I  settled  my  family  in  Boonesborough  once 
more  ;  and  shortly  after,  on  the  6th  day  of  Octo- 
ber, 1780,  I  went  in  company  with  my  brother  to 
the  Blue  Licks  ;  and,  on  our  return  home,  we  were 
fired  upon  by  a  party  of  Indians.  They  shot  him, 
and  pursued  me,  by  the  scent  of  their  dog,  three 
miles  ;  but  I  killed  the  dog,  and  escaped.  The 
winter  soon  came  on,  and  was  very  severe,  which 
confined  the  Indians  to  their  wigwams. 

The  severity  of  this  winter  caused  great  diffi- 
culties in  Kentucky.  The  enemy  had  destroyed 
most  of  the  corn  the  summer  before.  This  neces- 
sary article  was  scarce  and  dear,  and  the  inhab- 
itants lived  chiefly  on  the  flesh  of  buff'alo.  The 
circumstances  of  many  were  very  lamentable  : 
however,  being  a  hardy  race  of  people,  and  accus- 
tomed to  difficulties  and  necessities,  they  were 
wonderfully  supported  through  all  their  sufferings, 
until  the  ensuing  autumn,  when  we  received 
abundance  from  the  fertile  soil. 

Toward  spring  we  were  frequently  harassed  by 
Indians  ;  and  in  May,  1782,  a  party  assaulted 
4shton's    station,   killed    one    man,    and    took   a 


THE    ADVENTLIRES    OF    DAMEL    BOOxNE.        167 

negro  prisoner.  Captain  Ashton,  with  twenty- 
five  men,  pursued  and  overtook  the  savages,  and 
a  smart  figlit  ensued,  which  lasted  two  hours ;  but 
they,  being  superior  in  number,  obliged  Captain 
Ashton's  party  to  retreat,  with  the  loss  of  eight 
killed,  and  four  mortally  wounded  ;  their  brave 
commander  himself  being  numbered  among  the 
dead. 

The  Indians  continued  their  hostilities  ;  and, 
about  the  10th  of  August  following,  two  boys  were 
taken  from  Major  Hoy's  station.  This  party  was 
pursued  by  Captain  Holder  and  seventeen  men, 
who  were  also  defeated,  with  the  loss  of  four  men 
killed,  and  one  wounded.  Our  affairs  became 
more  and  more  alarming.  Several  stations  which 
had  lately  been  erected  in  the  country  were  con- 
tinually infested  with  savages,  stealing  their  horses 
and  killing  the  men  at  every  opportunity.  In  a 
field,  near  Lexington,  an  Indian  shot  a  man,  and 
running  to  scalp  him,  was  himself  shot  from  the 
fort,  and  fell  dead  upon  his  enemy. 

Every  day  we  experienced  recent  mischiefs. 
The  barbarous  savage  nations  of  Shawanese,  Cher- 
okees,  Wyandots,  Tawas,  Delawares,  and  several 
others  near  Detroit,  united  in  a  war  against  us, 
and  assembled  their  choicest  warriors  at  Old 
Chilicothe,  to  go  on  the  expedition,  in  order  to 
destroy  us,  and  entirely  depopulate  the  country. 
Their  savage  minds  were  inflamed  to  mischief  by 


168  APPENDIX. 

two  abandoned  men,  Captains  M'Kee  and  Girty. 
These  led  them  to  execute  every  diabolical  scheme, 
and  on  the  loth  day  of  August,  commanded  a  party 
of  Indians  and  Canadians,  of  about  five  hundred  is 
number,  against  Bryant's  station,  five  miles  from 
Lexington.  Without  demanding  a  surrender,  they 
furiously  assaulted  the  garrison,  which  was  hap- 
pily prepared  to  oppose  them  ;  and,  after  they  had 
expended  much  ammunition  in  vain,  and  killed  the 
cattle  round  the  fort,  not  being  likely  to  make 
themselves  masters  of  this  place,  they  raised  the 
siege,  and  departed  in  the  morning  of  the  third 
day  after  they  came,  with  the  loss  of  about  thirty 
killed,  and  the  number  of  wounded  uncertain. 
Of  the  garrison,  four  were  killed,  and  three 
wounded. 

On  the  18th  day,  Colonel  Todd,  Colonel  Trigg, 
Major  Harland,  and  myself,  speedily  collected 
one  hundred  and  seventy-six  men,  well  armed, 
and  pursued  the  savages.  They  had  marched 
beyond  the  Blue  Licks,  to  a  remarkable  bend  of 
the  main  fork  of  Licking  river,  about  forty-three 
miles  from  Lexington,  where  we  overtook  them 
on  the  19th  day.  The  savages  observing  us,  ga  e 
way ;  and  we,  being  ignorant  of  their  numbers, 
passed  the  river.  When  the  enemy  saw  our  pro- 
ceedings, having  greatly  the  advantage  of  us  in 
situation,  they  formed  the  line  of  battle,  from  one 
bend  of  Licking  to  the  other,  about  a  mile  from 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.   169 

the  Blue  Licks.  An  exceeding  fierce  battle  im- 
mediately began,  for  about  fifteen  minutes,  when 
we,  being  overpowered  by  numbers,  were  obliged 
to  retreat,  with  the  loss  of  sixty-seven  men,  seven 
of  whom  were  taken  prisoners.  The  brave  and 
much-lamented  Colonels  Todd  and  Trigg,  Major 
Harland,  and  my  second  son,  were  among  the 
dead.  We  were  informed  that  the  Indians,  num- 
bering their  dead,  found  they  had  four  killed 
more  than  we  ;  and  therefore  four  of  the  pris- 
oners they  had  taken  were,  by  general  consent, 
ordered  to  be  killed  in  a  most  barbarous  manner 
by  the  young  warriors,  in  order  to  train  them 
up  to  cruelty  ;  and  then  they  proceeded  to  their 
towns. 

On  our  retreat  we  were  met  by  Colonel  Logan, 
hastening  to  join  us,  with  a  number  of  well-armed 
men.  This  powerful  assistance  we  unfortunately 
wanted  in  the  battle  ;  for,  notwithstanding  the 
enemy's  superiority  of  numbers,  they  acknowl- 
edged, that,  if  they  had  received  one  more  fire 
from  us,  they  should  undoubtedly  have  given  way. 
So  valiantly  did  our  small  party  fight,  that,  to  the 
memory  of  those  who  unfortunately  fell  in  the 
battle,  enough  of  honor  can  not  be  paid.  Had 
Colonel  Logan  and  his  party  been  with  us,  it  is 
highly  probable  we  should  have  given  the  savages 
a  total  defeat. 

I  can  not  reflect  upon  this  dreadful  scene,  but 
15 


170  APPENblX. 

sorrow  fills  my  heart.  A  zeai  for  the  defence  of 
their  country  led  these  heroes  to  the  scene  of  ac- 
tion, though  with  a  few  men  to  attack  a  powerful 
army  of  experienced  warriors.  When  we  gave 
way,  they  pursued  us  with  the  utmost  eagerness, 
and  in  every  quarter  spread  destruction.  The 
river  was  difficult  to  cross,  and  many  ^v€re  killed 
in  the  flight — some  just  entering  the  river,  some 
in  the  water,  others  after  crossing,  in  ascending 
the  cliffs.  Some  escaped  on  horseback,  a  iew  on 
foot ;  and,  being  dispersed  everywhere  in  a  few 
hours,  brought  the  melancholy  news  of  this  un- 
fortunate battle  to  Lexington.  Many  widows  were 
now  made.  The  reader  may  guess  what  sorrow 
filled  the  hearts  of  the  inhabitants,  exceeding 
anything  that  I  am  able  to  describe.  Being  rein- 
forced, we  returned  to  bury  the  dead,  and  found 
their  bodies  strewed  everywhere,  cut  and  man- 
gled in  a  dreadful  manner.  This  mournful  scene 
exhibited  a  horror  almost  unparalleled :  some 
torn  and  eaten  by  wild  beasts ;  those  in  the 
river  eaten  by  fishes  ;  all  in  such  a  putrefied  con- 
dition, that  no  one  could  be  distinguished  from 
another. 

As  soon  as  General  Clarke,  then  at  the  Falls 
of  the  Ohio — who  was  ever  our  ready  friend,  and 
merits  the  love  and  gratitude  of  all  his  country- 
men— understood  the  circumstances  of  this  unfor- 
tunate action,  he  ordered  an  expedition,  with  all 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    DANIEL    BOONE.       1k^-i 

possible  haste,  to  pursue  the  savages,  which  was 
so  expeditiously  effected,  that  we  overtook  them 
within  two  miles  of  their  towns :  and  probably 
might  have  obtained  a  great  victory,  had  not  two 
of  their  number  met  us  about  two  hundred  poles 
before  we  came  up.  These  returned  quick  as 
lightning  to  their  camp,  with  the  alarming  news 
of  a  mighty  army  in  view.  The  savages  fled  in 
the  utmost  disorder,  evacuated  their  ^towns,  and 
reluctantly  left  their  territory  to  our  mercy.  We 
immediately  took  possession  of  Old  Chilicothe 
without  opposition,  being  deserted  by  its  inhabit- 
ants. We  continued  our  pursuit  through  five 
towns  on  the  iMiami  rivers,  Old  Chilicothe,  Peca- 
way,  New  Chilicothe,  Will's  Towns,  and  Chili- 
cothe— burnt  them  all  to  ashes,  entirely  destroyed 
their  corn,  and  other  fruits,  and  everywhere 
spread  a  scene  of  desolation  in  the  country.  In 
this  expedition  we  took  seven  prisoners  and 
five  scalps,  with  the  loss  of  only  four  men,  two 
of  whom  were  accidentally  killed  by  our  own 
army. 

This  campaign  in  some  measure  damped  the 
spirits  of  the  Indians,  and  made  them  sensible  of 
our  superiority.  Their  connexions  were  dissolved, 
their  armies  scattered,  and  a  future  invasion  put 
^tirely  out  of  their  power  ;  yet  they  continued  to 
practise  mischief  secretly  upon  the  inhabitants,  in 
the  exposed  parts  of  the  country. 


172  APPENDIX, 

In  October  following,  a  party  made  an  excur 
sion  into  that  district  called  the  Crab  Orchard 
and  one  of  them,  being  advanced  some  distance 
before  the  others,  boldly  entered  the  house  of  a 
poor  defenceless  family,  in  which  was  only  a 
negro  man,  a  woman,  and  her  children,  terrified 
with  the  apprehensions  of  immediate  death.  The 
savage,  perceiving  their  defenceless  situation, 
without  offering  violence  to  the  family,  attempted 
to  capture  the  negro,  who  happily  proved  an 
overmatch  for  him,  threw  him  on  the  ground,  and, 
in  the  struggle,  the  mother  of  the  children  drew 
an  axe  from  a  corner  of  the  cottage,  and  cut  his 
head  off,  while  her  little  daughter  shut  the  door. 
The  savages  instantly  appeared,  and  applied  their 
tomahawks  to  the  door.  An  old  rusty  gun-barrel, 
without  a  lock,  lay  in  a  corner,  which  the  mother 
ptit  through  a  small  crevice,  and  the  savages,  per- 
ceiving it,  fled.  In  the  mean  time,  the  alarm 
spread  through  the  neighborhood  ;  the  armed  men 
collected  immediately,  and  pursued  the  ravagers 
into  the  wilderness.  Thus  Providence,  by  the 
means  of  this  negro,  saved  the  whole  of  the  poor 
family  from  destruction.  From  that  time  until  the 
happy  return  of  peace  between  the  United  States 
and  Great  Britain,  the  Indians  did  us  no  mischief. 
Finding  the  great  king  beyond  the  water  disap- 
pointed in  his  expectations,  and  conscious  of  the 
importance   of  the    Long  Knife,  and  their  own 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE.   173 

wretchedness,  some  of  the  nations  immediately  de- 
sired  peace  ;  to  which,  at  present  [1784],  they 
seem  miiversally  disposed,  and  are  sending  am- 
bassadors to  General  Clarke,  at  the  Falls  of  the 
Ohio,  with  the  minutes  of  their  councils. 

To  conclude,  I  can  now  say  that  I  have  verified 
the  saying  of  an  old  Indian  who  signed  Colonel 
Henderson's  deed.  Taking  me  by  the  hand,  at 
the  delivery  thereof — "  Brother,"  said  he,  "  we 
have  given  you  a  fine  land,  but  I  believe  you  will 
have  much  trouble  in  settling  it."  My  footsteps 
have  often  been  marked  with  blood,  and  therefore 
I  can  truly  subscribe  to  its  original  name.  Two 
darling  sons  and  a  brother  have  I  lost  by  savage 
hands,  which  have  also  taken  from  me  forty  valu- 
able horses,  and  abundance  of  cattle.  Many  dark 
and  sleepless  nights  have  I  been  a  companion  for 
owls,  separated  from  the  cheerful  society  of  men, 
scorched  by  the  summer's  sun,  and  pinched  by 
the  winter's  cold — an  instrument  ordained  to  settle 
the  wilderness.  But  now  the  scene  is  changed  : 
peace  crowns  the  sylvan  shade. 

What  thanks,  what  ardent  and  ceaseless  thanks 
are  due  to  that  all-superintending  Providence  which 
has  turned  a  cruel  war  into  peace,  brought  order 
out  of  confusion,  made  the  fierce  savages  placid, 
and  turned  away  their  hostile  weapons  from  our 
country  !  May  the  same  Almighty  Goodness  ban- 
ish the  accursed  monster,  war,  from  all  lands,  with 


174  APPENDIX. 

her  hated  associates,  rapine  and  insatiable  ambi* 
lion '  Let  peace,  descending  from  her  native 
heaven,  bid  her  olives  spring  amid  the  joyful  na- 
tions ;  and  plenty,  in  league  with  commerce,  scatter 
blessings  from  her  copious  hand  ! 

This  account  of  my  adventures  will  inform  the 
reader  of  the  most  remarkable  events  of  this  coun- 
try. I  now  live  in  peace  and  safety,  enjoying  the 
sweets  of  liberty,  and  the  bounties  of  Providence, 
with  my  once  fellow-sufferers,  in  this  delightful 
country,  which  I  have  seen  purchased  with  a  vast 
.expense  of  blood  and  treasure  :  delighting  in  the 
prospect  of  its  being,  in  a  short  time,  one  of  the 
most  opulent  and  powerful  states  on  the  continent 
of  North  America  ;  which,  with  the  love  and  grati- 
tude of  my  countrymen,  I  esteem  a  sufficient  reward 
for  all  my  toil  and  dangers. 

DANIEL  BOONE. 

Fayette  County,  Kentucky. 


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Contents. 

The  Two  Voices,  or  the  Shadow  and  the  Shadowless.  The  3Iin7ite  Fainet. 
I  Have  and  O  Had  I.  The  Hump  and  Long  Nose.  The  Lily  Fairy  and  th« 
Silver  Beam.  The  Wonderful  VVatch.  The  Red  and  White  Rose  Tree*. 
The  Diamond  Fountain.    The  Magical  Key. 

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mencing  it.  The  first  story, — ''The  Two  Voices,  or  the  Shadow  and  the 
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Fountain."  Indeed,  the  whole  number,  and  there  are  ten,  will  be  read  with 
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COMPRISING 

i.   CHRISTMAS  STORIES,  for  Good  Children.    Illustrated.    IGmo. 

II.  WINTER  HOLIDAYS.     A  Story  for  Children.    Illustrated.     ICrao. 

III.  THE  SUMMER  HOLIDAYS.     A  Storv  for  Children.     lUns.     l6mo 
iV    GEORGE'S  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  COUNTRY.    lUas.     :.6mo. 

V     TIIEtCHILD'S  STORY  BOOK.    A  Hobday  Gift.     lUus.     IGmo. 
VI    THE  LITTLE  GIFT-BOOK.  For  Good  Bovs  and  Gir'j.   lUus    i6iao 


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.V 


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